


Without the Walls

by blueTshirts, thesketchytepe



Series: Attack on Titan AU [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-18
Updated: 2018-03-25
Packaged: 2018-12-16 19:00:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 33
Words: 76,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11835009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueTshirts/pseuds/blueTshirts, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesketchytepe/pseuds/thesketchytepe
Summary: Enjoy all your favorite Attack on Titan ships (Aruani, EreMika, Reibert, JeanMarco, Springles, Yumikuri) in a college AU, where no one has to die. Authors thesketchytepe and blueTshirts team up to bring you laughs, romance, college drama, and tragic backstories. Please enjoy our version of how the characters' lives would be like without the walls.





	1. Introduction

Welcome all! This is an atypical college AU where everything is happy fun and nothing ever goes wrong (most of the time). It’s lovely relationship drama and drunk college parties. There are two writers for this story, thesketchytepe and blue_tshirt. There’s no real order to which chapter is ours, so we’ll put our tag in for each specific chapter. Also each chapter is written in a different point of view so you can experience each character’s thoughts and feelings (we’re trying to make everyone happy). The main plot is forming relationships for Aruani (Annie and Armin), JeanMarco, EreMika (Eren and Mikasa), Yumikuri (Ymir and Historia/Krista), Springles (Connie and Sasha), and ReiBert (Reiner and Berthold). Plus, this is a part of a series for a future sequel we are writing that has to do with the above ships future lives together and their children (our original characters). The first chapter will be posted this Sunday so stay tuned.   
So please enjoy a happy and hilarious AU for Attack on Titan where you don’t have to worry who’s going to die next.   
\--The Sketchy Tepe and Blue T-Shirt


	2. What Is Love? (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Written by: blueTshirts**

Move in day. Fuck.   
It’s not like it’s such a terrible thing, but it already feels like a burden. It’s no secret, but: school’s not my thing. Although, now that it’s college and I supposedly get to do what I want and learn what I want, I guess I’ll have to try it out. My major is studio art. My father says it’s a waste time and my mom tells me to follow my dreams. And as the old saying goes or whatever - mother knows best.  
I did a random select for my roommate. I didn’t really have any friends in the area that were going to the same university, so I just hoped for the best. A week or so back, my roommate, Armin Arlert (poor kid, his name sounds like that weird all-too-optimistic sidekick on Sunday cartoons, but I’m sure he’s cool) messaged me on Facebook and introduced himself. Seems like an alright guy.   
I got to the dorm first, chose what bed I wanted, and started to unpack. I’ve mostly unpacked everything, but I got bored so I’m just dicking around on my laptop waiting for the noise and people to settle down out in the halls.   
As I scroll through a list of food places around and outside of campus, a soft knock echoes at the door. Fuck, already? I sigh and put my laptop aside and get up to answer the door, but it opens before I get there. A kid with chin lenghth blonde hair and massive blue eyes, shuffles into the room with a half-a-dozen bags hanging off his arms. He looks up at me and smiles, struggling to get the door closed behind him. I lift my arm over his head to push it shut for him.  
“Heh, thanks,” he says setting a couple bags down to free an arm. He turns and sticks his hand between the two of us, “Nice to finally meet you, Jean.”  
Oh man. This kid actually does look like an all-too-optimistic sidekick on Sunday cartoons, all he has to do is put his fists on his hips, puff his chest out, and look into the distance.   
I wipe my palm on the back of my leg and take his hand. My hand is obviously bigger than his, I’m already like, six inches taller than him, but he compensates with a manly squeeze that I reciprocate. I nod, “Yeah, you too.”   
He turns to start unpacking and I start fiddling with my phone, trying to look casual. The good thing is: the room isn’t a broom closet. My parents put me in one of the newly renovated dorm buildings so there’s enough space to actually breathe and stuff. Also, we don’t have to have the weird bunk bed-desk contraptions. We have enough space that we don’t have to start scaling the wall for find more livability.   
Armin clears his throat, “So, Jean, what’s your major?”   
“Studio Art,” I grunt. Armin’s folding clothes into his set of drawers, I can’t help but feel like I’ve seen this kid before.   
“Nice, I’ve never been great with drawing, but I like to look at art, there’s a lot of talented people out there.” He continues to talk about art, mostly to himself at this point, I’ve buried my face back into my phone. “I’m a history major by the way. I know, I know, kind of pointless. But I really like it, I’d like to be a teacher one day.”  
I nodded mindlessly, distracted with trying to figure out where I’ve seen him before. Armin shrugs it off. It seems like we’re going to have some pretty one sided conversations. Armin slides his now empty suitcase under his bed and turns to me, “So Jean, a couple of my friends and I are going to a party tonight, maybe you’d want to come?”  
Two thoughts whizz through my head when Armin mentions a party. One: People - fuck. Two: Booze - fuck yes. I roll the thoughts around in my head and turn to Armin, “Is it a frat party?”  
“No, it’s at a friends condo, there’ll be maybe twenty or thirty people there,” Armin shrugs. He seems indifferent about me going, he’s probably just being polite.   
I sigh again and turn back to my screen, “Sure, why not.”   
Amrin mutters out a “Cool,” and pulls out his phone probably telling his friends that he’s bringing his weird roommate. Whatever. Beer. I’m going for the beer.   
“They’ll be here around nine-ish,” Armin says standing and going to his dresser.   
“Cool,” I mutter and decide that I shouldn’t go to a party in sweatpants and a hoodie. I throw on some dark jeans and a blue jean jacket over my hoodie. But then again, it’s probably too hot for two jackets so I take them both off and put just the jean jacket back on.   
Armin has a loose button down shirt and cuffed jeans. We both make a silent promise not to say anything about how we both changed for a fucking party. We wait around in silence for about an hour. Armin sometimes asks random cliche first date-like questions that I give one worded answers for. It’s not that I don’t like Armin, I just don’t talk as much as the guy.   
Armin gets up and rifles through another bag he brought. He pulls out a large rolled up piece of paper. He grabs some tape and goes to his desk. He unrolls the paper and flattens it on the wall right above his desk. He tapes the corners and steps back, his hands on his hips, oh my god.   
“What the hell is that?” I ask craning my neck to see the poster on his wall that looks to be a map. He turns a little, still looking at the wall.   
“It’s a map,” Armin says with a smirk. I send one of my deadliest glares at him, he physically takes a step back.  
“I know it’s a fucking map. What’s the point?” I growl at him. He makes a little panicked laugh and rubs the back of his neck.  
“It’s, uh, all the places I want to go,” he says sounding more confident as he goes on, “All the red dots are places I still haven’t seen, and the blue dots are the ones that I have been to.”  
I put my phone aside and take the few steps to stand behind Armin, looking at the heavily dotted map. “There’s like, two blue dots.”   
Armin sighs, “Yeah I know, haven’t really had the time or money to go around.”  
I hum, I’m about to tell him all the places I’ve been that he wants to go to, but I’m interrupted by a vicious knocking on the door. I jump at the banging, hoping Armin didn’t see it, who seems to have been awaiting the unpleasant noise.   
Armin skips to the door and opens it to...oh my god.   
Oh my god.   
Oh my god.   
I see them before they can see me, I try to think of a way to escape, something, anything. Maybe jumping out the window, but we’re four goddamn stories up, maybe hiding in a closet or something, but there’s no goddamn closet, maybe just throw myself into bed and act like I’m sick, or better yet run past them and get to the bathroom and act like I’m gonna be sick, I probably won’t even have to fake sick because I might just puke right now - oh god it’s too late he sees me, she sees me, they can see me and I haven’t learned how to transport telepathically yet and am really beating myself up for it because I need to leave and never come back. Now.  
“Kirstien?” Eren practically yells, green eyes bulging out of his face. He pushes past Armin, who wears a cloak of confusion making faces at Mikasa beside him, and comes right up to me and grabs my sweaty hand and pulls me into the weird guys hug that I’ve never understood, where he pulls my hand to his chest and he wraps his arm behind my shoulder to pat my back forcefully, I just kinda stand loosely and let it happen. “Dude, how’ve you been?!” he yells at my face when he pulls back.   
I take my hand back with more force than a normal person would, cough into my fist, and scratch the back of my neck (a bad habit of mine when I get nervous.) I clear my throat and look up at Eren, no sign of awkwardness or anger that I expected after all these years. It calms me enough to where I can get back a bit composure.   
“Uh, good. I’ve been, uh...good.” Smooth. Eren doesn’t seem to notice as I curse at myself in my head, he nods and turns to Mikasa and Armin.   
“Let’s get going then, I’m a little too sober for this now,” Eren says grabbing Armin and Mikasa’s wrists and pulling them to the door.   
“Me too,” I mutter to myself and follow after them.   
Great. This night’s just gonna be great.   
-  
So, yeah. That happened.  
Let me fill in the gaps for you.   
I obviously already know Eren and Mikasa. Duh. That’s not the bad part. I was really good friends with them all through, like, the third grade to middle school. But things kind of got complicated the last year or so.   
It started like this: I’d had a massive heart-eyed, weak-at-the-knees crush on Eren’s beautiful adopted sister, Mikasa, ever since I laid eyes upon her when we were nine. I bottled up my crush like any sane person would for three years. Then, once middle school began and people started dating, I told Eren, my best friend at the time. Surprisingly he was really cool about it, he’d even said that he’d try to set us up, which I thought was nice, but nothing really happened for a few months.   
The boldest move I could muster was a putrid gag worthy love letter written with heaps of preteen stress and years of bottled emotions flowing through my fingers. Eren and I had stealthily maneuvered the letter into Mikasa’s backpack at one point, but that was then end of it. Mikasa never wrote back or said anything to me, I’d almost started to think that she didn’t get it, but I’d found it folded neatly in a random folder in my backpack a few weeks later. You could say I was heartbroken.   
Heartbroken and helpless, poor little preteen, love sick Jean Kirstien fell into the hands of his best friend who wouldn’t take no for an answer. Yes, Eren took it upon himself to get me (in the metaphorical middle school sense) laid.   
(Not to get off track, but I mean this was his sister. Like, I have no idea why he was so gung-ho about this, it was kind of weird.)  
Eren had decided that the absolute only way to win Mikasa’s heart was to kiss her. This is where things got complicated.  
“Trust me, it’ll work, I’ve seen it a million times in movies,” Eren said waving his hands like he was trying to bat away my anxiety.   
“Are you sure? I’m pretty sure she’s not into me.” I sat there on Eren’s bed like a wounded puppy. A wounded, love-sick, puppy.  
“She’s totally into you, remember when she gave you your coat the other day?” he said.  
“I asked her to give it to me,” I sighed.  
“And she did!” He sits next to me and slaps my knee, “It’s like, true love!”   
“Eren-”   
“No, no! I’ve got a plan, next time you see her, ask her if you have something on you face, and when she’s looking, kiss her!” Eren jumped up like it was a surprise ending.   
“That’s the dumbest idea I’ve ever heard. And besides, I’ve never even kissed anyone,” I trailed off like it was something embarrassing that I’d said, even though I knew Eren hadn’t kissed anyone yet either.  
“Don’t worry, I’ve got a plan for that too,” Eren said again. I groaned.   
“What is it now?” I laid back on his bed.  
“Kissing practice,” he shrugged.  
I glared up at him, “On what?”  
He raised his eyebrows like it was obvious, “On each other.”  
I bolted straight up, “What?! Ew, no! Gross.”  
“Oh c’mon, what’s the big deal? You need kissing practice, and I’m a great kisser,” Eren said with a dumb smirk on his face. I tried to avoid looking at his lips.  
“What’s the big deal? It’s gross!” I quieted my voice for the next part: “and gay. And how do you even know you’re a great kisser?”  
“I told you, I’ve watched a lot of movies. And it’s not gay, friends do kissing practice on eachother all the time, it’s for practice.” I was shocked at both how Eren even came up with the idea and how okay he was with it, but don’t put it past Eren to do literally anything for something he wants.  
I can’t believe I’d eventually come to the consensus that kissing practice with Eren was a good idea, but I did. And it happened.   
God. So cringey. So, so cringey. We ended up kissing not long after he came up with the idea. He had even talked about all his knowledge on kissing before we did anything, he knew way too much for a thirteen year old. But yeah, we ended up kissing. The worst part was: it ended up not being just about kissing, not for me anyways.  
After, maybe even during the kissing, I’d formed a weird “crush” on Eren right then and there. It’s a “crush” because I honestly didn’t know what it was, it felt like something was changing between us, I guess. I started to have feelings for Eren. The kiss broke something loose in me.   
And for all of you fuckers thinking about how great of a kisser Eren must have been to turn me gay, you’re wrong. Eren did not turn me gay, I’m not even gay to this day. I’m bisexual, I’ve come to terms with it. But with Eren in eighth grade I had literally no idea what was happening to me. For some reason I wasn’t freaked out by the fact that I might not be straight, I was freaked out that I had a crush on my best friend, and my best friends sister. Yeah, now it was complicated.   
I struggled to act natural for weeks after it, but I’d had plenty of practice with the whole crush-for-three-years thing. I ended up doing what I did best: bottling my emotions until they spewed out onto a piece of notebook paper in the form of a love letter. Yeah, I wrote another one, because the first one worked out so well. And again, just like the first, because my imagination and creativity did not have the capacity for anything better, I hid it in Eren’s backpack.   
Two days went by before Eren had mentioned a word about it, but eventually he came to me after school.  
“I just, don’t understand,” Eren sighed. We were sitting in the football bleachers, looking over an empty field.   
The anxiety and embarrassment tingled through me, I couldn’t stop myself from shaking, I couldn’t even look at him. I hadn’t said a word the entire time, Eren just showed me the letter and started talking. I sat there with my hands in my pockets and a thousand things to say but with no way to say them.   
“I thought you liked Mikasa, but now you like us both? How does that even work?” He spoke out to the field, I thought he was trying to avoid looking at me too. I shrugged next to him.   
I wanted to tell him that I wished to take his hand and kiss him like he did before and make him realize how he felt like he did to me. But I wanted to do the same things with Mikasa. I wanted to run my fingers through her long dark hair, and catch every time she rarely smiled. I wanted all of those things, I was an idiot.   
“I just, I don’t know what to do, I didn’t know this would happen,” Eren sighed putting his face in his hands. I wanted to hug him, or rest my hand on his back, it took everything in me not to.   
“I think I’m gonna go, I need to think things through and you probably need to do the same, I’ll talk to you later man.” Eren dragged to his feet and stomped down the bleachers.   
I wanted to cry. Although it could’ve gone worse, and I think the only thing he’s upset about it how frustrated he is about his inability to understand, but he’ll come around. But still, it’s not what I wanted to happen. I wanted him to run up to me bright and glowing, throwing himself into my arms telling me he feels the same way, but we all can’t get what we want.   
Eren, Mikasa, and I didn’t talk for a few days. They needed their space, and I needed mine, at least that’s what I told myself. In the halls Eren would look up at me a smile even though he wasn’t really ready to talk yet, but the gesture was still comforting. Although Mikasa, she looked worse than usual, she’d glare at me whenever she got the chance. I didn’t know why she was so upset, she wasn’t upset before. I would soon come to find out why.  
“Stay away from Eren,” Mikasa practically growled when she’d cornered me after school in the football bleachers where I’ve been hanging out now-a-days for some reason.   
“What? Why?” I stuttered under her looming shadow.   
“Because you’re ruining things,” she said crossing her arms in a smooth motion.  
“Mikasa, I’m gonna need a little more than that,” I said trying to sound confident under her menacing aura.   
“You’re confusing him, he doesn’t know how to approach you anymore, he’s all you talk about now.” I shamefully was glad to hear that, he’s thinking of me. “He doesn’t need to think about relationships right now, it’s messing him up.”  
“What does it matter to you?” I successfully was able to fake confidence with that question, on the inside, I was freaking the flip out.   
She glared, standing there with her arms crossed, like a mom or something. The wind blew a strand of black hair out of her face revealing her porcelain skin, god she was beautiful.   
Wait. She’s hiding something.   
“Wait, why is Eren being confused such a bad thing? Why does him thinking of me bother you so much? Neither of you are upset that I’m bisexual or on the fact that I literally have crushes on both of you, so what's really bothering you?” I stand only and inch or two above Mikasa, but her stare is way stronger.   
She turns on her heel and grumbles as she walks away, “This was pointless anyway.”  
And before I could even think about the thought that just flew threw my mind, I blurted it out, the words chasing Mikasa down the bleachers, “Do you like Eren?”   
Before I could even blink, Mikasa was on me like I was fresh meat, “Don’t. You. Dare.” Her hands were fisted in the front of my jacket anchoring me closer to her face as she whispered. Honestly I wasn’t even that upset about it.   
“You do!” I whispered back to her, “It all makes sense now! You freaking like Eren!”   
“You better shut your mouth if you know what's good for you, Jean,” Mikasa growled.  
She liked him, I liked him, I liked her, she hated me, and he was so confused that he could’ve blown up at any moment. It was madness.  
“You should stay away,” Mikasa whispered letting go of my jacket. She backed away and crossed her arms.  
“What do you mean?” I felt cold, isolated, like I was poison.  
“You can't talk to us anymore, Jean,” she said staring emotionless at me.  
“You can't do that, you guys are my best friends, this whole thing will blow over in a few weeks-”  
“There's no way I'm letting you talk to Eren now that you know.” I thought she was kidding, that she was being overdramatic and wouldn't give up on a friendship because of a stupid secret, but I was wrong.  
The harder I fought with Mikasa, the harder she fought back. Mikasa was ruthless, one of the things I always envied about her, except when she was using it against me. She started to threaten me if I dared to approach Eren, and she eventually won.   
I never talked to them again. I had tried making eye contact to Eren in the halls, maybe he missed me, but he never looked at me. I thought Mikasa had told him something to make him hate me. At least I didn't have a crush on her anymore.  
At least I know why Armin looks so familiar now; Armin was my replacement in middle school. The rest of eighth grade Eren and Mikasa had adopted the new little blonde kid as their sidekick. I remember seeing them in the halls laughing and being friends like they didn’t have a care in the world. I walked alone in the halls. I was heartbroken and friendless, a real piece of work.   
I went to a private school for high school. I never stayed in contact with either of them, obviously. I also swore off any kind of love life after that. I barely made any friends in high school because of it, I was too scared that I’d ruin another friendship because of my terrible self control.   
So yeah, that’s why I’m now trailing behind the trio while we walk to the party. I know that Mikasa still hasn’t let it go, not like Eren, it’s just kind of who she is. But once I get drunk and this party is over with, I’m avoiding hanging around Armin and his friends for the rest of the year.


	3. The Beginning of Our Lives (Ymir POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

For the first time in her life, Ymir was officially invited to something: a party. Don’t get her wrong, she’s been to plenty of parties before whether it was a huge social gathering where no one specific was invited or when she actually crashed a few just to piss off people. But to be personally invited was a first for her.   
Historia must’ve known this, although she doesn’t recall ever telling her that, because the little kitten took the time to actually handwrite an invitation for her. In beautiful calligraphy, it stated her name and the time and place for a before-school-starts party that was going to be held in their own condo (which Historia’s super rich and important dad paid for). Her blue eyes lit up as she informed her that she left a note at the boys and girls dormitories and personally invited some old friends from high school to come to the gathering. She went grocery shopping that day and bought a bunch of food, drinks, and other basic party essentials. She even got a hold of Reiner Braun and Berthold Hoover to come over early and help out with organizing the event.   
She couldn’t help but to give the goddess a big, sloppy kiss upon her perfect lips.   
Now there wasn’t a lot of people here (probably because of such short notice) but Ymir still found it enjoyable. College students were either sitting on the long couches drinking punch (Historia tried to avoid serving any alcoholic drinks) or standing around and mingling. Low music hung in the background and was mainly drowned out by other people’s conversations. The smell of baked goods and spicy foods lingered in the air. It was nearing 10 PM and the only lights they used were the city view outside their large bay windows and everyone’s cell phones.   
Ymir also experienced another first that day: she didn’t care what others thought; she only cared that she and Historia were having fun. That’s all that mattered.   
She was leaning against the door to her and Historia’s bedroom, conversing with Reiner and Berthold. The blond giant was recalling high school memories and the shy turtle next to him held a red solo cup which he occasionally drank from and nodded along to Reiner’s stories.   
“Can’t believe we’re in college, man,” Reiner said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Time really has flown by.”   
“It sure has,” Berthold replied. “I feel like college will be faster, though.”   
“I sure hope so.” Ymir pulled down on the grey beanie she wore. “That means studying will be over soon and then I can finally get out of here.”   
“Classes haven’t even started yet.”   
“I know. Schools in general just piss me off.”   
Reiner laughed. “I guess that explains all the suspensions you got in high school. How many was it again?”   
Ymir grinned mischievously. “A grand total of six. Three for starting fights, two for smoking on school property, and one for dropping a cherry bomb down the girls toilet.” They had to cancel school for a week. She was doing everyone a favor; it was exam week so they should’ve been thanking her.  
Reiner snapped his fingers in realization. “Oh yeah, I remember that! You should’ve told me you were planning to do that. We could’ve thrown a whole cartful of those things down the drain and explode the entire sewage system.” He looked into the crowd of people, mind focused. “We could still do it now.”  
Ymir snorted. “Like hell you would’ve done it. Dear old Mommy would get upset if she heard of you hanging around anywhere near me.”   
His small blue eyes flicked back to her, smirking. “Well, Mom isn’t here and I no longer care what she thinks of me anymore.” He peeked at the corner of the room and called out in a loud voice, “Isn’t that right, Annie?”   
The said girl didn’t reply. She only continued flipping through her phone and acted as though no one else was in the condo.   
Reiner went on with asking Annie questions (to which she didn’t answer) and commenting on anything that came into his mind (to which Berthold politely nodded to) while Ymir easily lost her focus and ended up looking around the room, searching for Historia. She finally found her standing by the bay windows, talking excitedly with Sasha Braus and some random girl with black pigtails. Pigtails was adding to the conversation with as much enthusiasm as Historia had, but Sasha simply nodded along while she ate from her own pile of chocolate chip cookies, clearly giving all her attention to her tastebuds.   
The all-too-familiar feel of her chest sparking up appeared again for the countless time that night. Ymir always felt a little jealous whenever she found her girlfriend having a great time with someone else, with someone that wasn’t her. The feeling was stronger, surprisingly, whenever she was with other guys. Even though Historia had openly admitted that she was a lesbian way back in junior year of high school, Ymir still felt like she had to protect her from the dumb and perverted ways of men.   
The freckled girl had started to make her way over to the group of girls, intending to sling her long arm around the short girl, to identify the blondie as hers and hers alone, when the doorbell rang throughout the condo.   
Historia whipped her head to the front door and whimpered like a little puppy, apparently disappointed that she would have to end her conversation in order to answer the door. But she noticed Ymir standing a few feet away and shot her a smile. “Ymir, can you answer the door?”   
“But I was just heading over to introduce myself to your new friend...” She glanced at her other companion. “...and Sasha’s handful of cookies.”   
At that, the ponytailed girl widened her brown eyes and then narrowed them like daggers, pushing the goodies toward her chest in a protective manner.   
“Please? I wanna finish telling Mina my story.” Historia then fired one of Ymir’s greatest weaknesses: her most loving and gentle smile. “Please?”   
Ymir blushed a little but quickly shook it off before anyone else could see. “Ah, fine, you cheater! But you owe me a beer sometime tonight.”   
“Thank you!” She rapidly turned her head back to her new best friend.   
Ymir huffed under her breath and pushed pass all the party-goers before reaching the door. She peeked into the peephole with one of her coconut brown eyes. She spotted four people: one looming over the rest while sporting a stupid undercut, one dude with bright green eyes who wouldn’t shut up, another with a blond bob haircut (she couldn’t really tell if they were a boy or a girl), and an Asian girl with a long red scarf around her thin neck.   
She opened the door halfway.   
“Hey.” She stared at them with a deadpan look, her signature expression. “You guys here for the party?”   
“Yeah,” Green Eyed Dude answered. “We saw the note at the boys dormitory.”   
“You know anyone here?” She asked mainly because if they knew Historia, she wanted at least a background check and any criminal records they might have carried.   
The Asian girl spoke up. “Two of my roommates are Sasha Braus and Annie Leonhart. They said they would be here.”   
A grin curved upon her lips. “Ah, those two. I like to call them Potato Girl and Heartless Bitch. Yeah, come on in.” She opened the door all the way now.   
The new party-goers entered in; the guy with the undercut seemed to glide in though like he was a ghost. He paused for a moment and then turned to her. “Where’s the booze?” he asked. “I’m probably gonna need the whole bottle.”   
She snorted. “Man, I wish I could help ya. My girlfriend said it was a no-no because she didn’t want to be responsible for anyone dying.” She nodded in thought. “Smart, but damn I want a drink.”   
“I hear ya,” he mumbled grumpily.   
She was about to close the door when she felt something quick and heavy land against it from the other side. “Wait!” came a voice she recognized. She opened the door back up a little and peered outside and groaned out loud.   
“Connie! What are you doing here?”   
The small boy panted heavily with his palm against the door and looked up at her. “Coming to the party,” he managed between breaths. “What else?”   
“Dude, you live at a frat house now. I figured you’d be totally satisfied there and would never want to communicate with me ever again.”   
He narrowed his eyes. “As much as I’d like that, I came because the others are here. You know, my friends since childhood.”   
“It’s friend, Connie. Friend as in singular. Why don’t you give Sasha a break every once in awhile?”   
“I’m friends with Reiner and Berthold too!”   
“I’m gonna go with nah on this one.” She went to shut the door but Connie was quick to strike out a foot, nudging it between the threshold and the door. She swung it back open again. “Get lost, Con-man.”   
Just then, a sly grin etched up on his face. He reached out behind him and showed a gigantic pack of beer. “Will beer let me in?”   
She glared at him, over to the pack, and then back to him before snatching out of his hands. “Gimmie that.”   
“Knew it’d work, you sad alcoholic,” Connie sneered as he waltzed into the room and into the crowd of students.   
Ymir ripped open the cardboard box and handed a can to the guy next to her, who witnessed everything with an I’m-already-regretting-my-life-choices expression. “Keep quiet about this, Horseface. If you end up drunk, I’mma kick your ass.”   
“No promises,” he muttered back before briskly walking away with his drink.   
She smirked as she opened her own can and took a long and refreshing sip from it.


	4. Mingling About (Sasha POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Written by: thesketchytepe**

“Sasha!”   
The Potato Girl whipped her head around at the sound of her name. At first she couldn’t tell who called out for her--the lighting was pretty dark and a lot of kids were standing in her way. Just as she was about to shrug and return to devouring her third helping of snacks, she noticed a small boy stumble out between two party-goers.   
“Connie!” She smiled widely. “I thought it was you, but you’re so short I couldn’t see your big head anywhere.”   
“Ha, ha, very funny.” He stepped forward and shoved his thumbs into the pockets of his jean shorts. “I’m just surprised you haven’t gained twenty pounds since our last meeting two hours ago.”  
Sasha laughed out loud, snorting like a baby pig. “You and me both!”   
“Hey, Connie!” Historia wrapped her tiny arms around his neck, actually pulling him down to her incredibly tiny structure. “Thanks for coming. Have you set up in the frat house yet?”   
“Yes, I have.” He straightened back up and pointed across toward the window. “You can actually see the place from here.”   
The girls peeked over and saw a two-story building across the street with all their lights on and a few boys sitting on the porch steps, trails of smoke leaving their lips as they sucked on sticks of tobacco.   
“They all just like sitting around and smoking,” Connie explained. “No arguments, no taking offense, no nothing. Met a guy called ‘Tie-Dye’”--he leaned over to Sasha to mumble “He wears only tie-dye” before resuming as though nothing happened-- “and he offered to show me around campus. Seems like a nice guy.”   
Historia turned back to him with a smile. “Oh, good. I’m glad that you’re already making friends. Speaking of which…” She gestured to the girl behind her. “This is Mina Carolina. She’s from Jinae and looking to get into nursing.”   
Mina offered her pale hand and a sweet smile. “Hi. It’s nice to meet you.”   
Connie looked up to Sasha for judgement to which she nodded approvingly. He grabbed it and shook it a few times in greeting. “Yeah, likewise.”   
“Dude.” Sasha shoved at Connie’s shoulder and glanced across the room. “Look at this guy I found earlier.”   
Connie followed suit while Historia and Mina walked off, continuing their story without the iconic duo. Sasha stabbed a finger at the student she was talking about. “It’s the guy with all the freckles on his face. You see him?”   
The small boy rose on his tiptoes and tried to peek over all the other students with his mouth slightly ajar. “Freckles? I don’t see--oh wait, yeah I do. What about him?”   
A sly grin curved Sasha’s thin lips. “We have another gay on our hands.”  
Connie’s golden eyes widened. “What? Another one? How can you tell?”   
“I can just smell it on him. Besides…” She offered one of her chocolate chip cookies to Connie, which he took without questioning the giant pile in her hands. “...who has freckles and isn’t gay?”   
On cue, Connie and Sasha peered over their shoulders and watched Ymir lean down to give Historia a big kiss on her cheek as she passed her and Mina, probably throwing some snarky or perverted comment into the mix because the tiny blonde flushed up like a garden tomato and exclaimed a high-pitched, “Ymir!” which rang throughout the condo (not to mention how they also caught a glimpse of tall Berthold sneak a quick kiss onto Reiner’s temple in the background).   
Connie frowned and bit off his cookie. “You have a point there.”   
“I’m always right about these things.”  
“Also true.” He took another bite on the cookie before tossing it over his shoulder and placing his hands on his hips like some wannabe superhero. “We should introduce him to our friends; he’ll probably have fun with them.”   
But before Sasha could say anything, Connie grabbed her free hand and started to run through the small crowd of people. “Connie!” she yelled right before she bumped into someone on her left, causing her to fall and all her snacks to go flying from her grasp.   
Sasha banged her fist on the dark blue carpeting and looked up to cuss Connie out when instead she saw someone completely different--probably the person she bumped into.   
The girl was around her height but her build was much larger (not as in fat, but as in muscular). She had shiny black hair that shadowed most of her face. Her features resembled someone of Asian culture and Sasha was embarrassed to not know if she was Chinese, Japanese, or even Koreanese: almond-shaped eyes that possessed a very dark iris color, a skinny nose, small lips, heightened cheekbones, a narrow chin. She had on a black hoodie, black skinny jeans, worn-out sneakers, and a plain white shirt that stopped well pass her hips. A red scarf was wrapped around her neck and Sasha wondered how she wasn’t burning up; the weather was still a bit warm and it was a little stuffy in here with all the crowded people.   
Still Sasha knew who she was exactly.   
Panic rose to her chest as she shot up her hands in surrender and her face flushed in embarrassment. “I’m sorry, Mikasa! I didn’t mean to bump into you. I was just--”   
“Are you okay?” she interrupted in a monotone voice, turning to face her fully.   
“Uh, yeah, I’m fine. But I’m so, so sorry!”   
“Hey, uh, you okay, Sasha?” She felt Connie wrap his arms under her armpits and pulled her back up into a standing position, all the while trying to hold in his laughter.   
“I’m fine, you idiot.” She brushed off a few cookie crumbles that clung to her sleeves before turning back to Mikasa. “I’m so sorry. I didn’t hurt you, did I?”   
A tiny grin etched upon her lips, one of the biggest reactions Sasha had gotten out of her yet. She placed the cup she was holding in her hand on a nearby end table. “To be honest, I hardly felt anything.”   
“O-Oh…” She tried to return the smile, but it probably came out all crooked and awkward because of how nervous she was. “I really am sorry though.”   
“It’s no big deal.”   
“You guys know each other?” Connie asked, switching his thumb back and forth between the two girls. Sasha was glad that Mikasa answered for her because she was so mad at Connie, she could bite off his nose right now.   
“Yeah, we’re roommates.”   
“Hey, Mikasa!”   
The three students glanced behind the said girl and found two boys catching up to her, one blond, one brunette. “Have you seen Jean?” the brunette asked her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “I think we lost him.”   
The concern of finding this Jean person almost completely vanished when the boy glanced at Sasha and Connie. “Oh, hey. Did you already make some new friends?”   
“Not really.” Connie shrugged and nodded his head in the direction of the spilled cookies. “More like we conveniently bumped into each other and made a mess of things, like we always do.”   
Sasha glared at him. “Which I will murder you for,” she said to him in a low and threatening voice. She turned back to the boy. “No, but I think Mikasa mentioned you before we came here. It’s Eren and Armin, right?”   
“Yeah. I’m Eren and that’s Armin.” He pointed to the blond boy, who smiled toward the duo in greetings. “And you must be...Annie?”   
“Sasha, actually.”   
“Sasha, okay.” The boy named Eren grinned. “You’re one of Mikasa’s roommates, right? There’s a Mina and an Annie, too.”   
“Yup, Mina’s really nice and Annie is…” Sasha looked around the room to describe the girl she’s known since high school. “...special in her own way.”   
“We heard she’s a little heartless.”   
Connie laughed once and then turned dead serious. “That’s one way to put it.”   
Sasha felt the need to defend her, even though they weren’t exactly close. “She’s not heartless, just a little…” Her hands swam through the air, trying to think of a different word. “...emotionless? But anyway, ignore Connie. He doesn’t know what he’s talking about half the time.”   
“That’s what Armin says about me majority of the time,” Eren added, while Armin simply rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “So what brings you guys here?”   
“To school? Nothing, really. A place to be, I guess.” Connie sighed and motioned to him and Sasha. “We’re majoring in communications because we don’t know what to do with our lives.”   
Sasha shrugged and nodded. “Yup, that kinda sums it up. What about you guys?”   
“Well, Mikasa is studying law,” the blond boy, Armin, spoke up, “I’m studying education and history, and Eren’s on his way to getting a medical degree.” He smiled. “It’s a little self-explanatory: we’re planning to be a lawyer, a teacher, and a doctor.” He pointed to himself and each of his friend’s as he said this.   
“Another medical degree?” Connie half smiled and glanced at Eren. “I’ve met at least five people today who want to be doctors. Why do you wanna be one? That’s a lot of time and a lot of money.”   
Eren momentarily looked down at the ground, at Sasha’s cookies that still sat on the floor. Sasha sensed something was up and was about to nudge Connie’s side to get him to shut up but Eren quickly recovered. “It’s kind of a long story.” His vibrant green eyes sparkled and his confident grin widened. “You guys seem like a lot of fun. We should hang out sometime.”   
Sasha and Connie nodded their heads and grinned back, both thankful for finding friends that weren’t from Marley High School.


	5. Pretty Boy (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

I hate my life.   
I hate parties.  
I hate college.  
I hate roommates and their friends.  
I hate my life.  
And this beer sucks.  
This wall is the only good thing in my life, it supports me, it doesn’t ask any questions, and doesn’t remind me of my past mistakes. I love you, Wall.   
Armin may have over exaggerated about how many people would be here tonight. There are like fifteen or sixteen people here. Which means that everyone can see everyone, that means people can see me. Me: leaning against the wall on my, like, fifth shitty beer. Plus, no one’s drinking. Except the girl that gave me the beer, she’s been sneaking sips behind her girlfriend’s back, I respect that.   
There’s nothing really going on. People are just talking about future school or past school, it just seems like everyone is talking about school, which I hate.   
I was hoping to make friends with Armin and maybe meet his group of nerds so that I could get out of this friendless funk I’ve been in, but no, his friends were my friends who ruined my life. God, I’m such a mess of alcohol and sadness right now, I should leave.   
I try to break my bond with the wall but it won’t let go. I end up ripping myself from it and almost go flying, someone grabs my waist and helps me stand upright. I turn to my savior, hoping I don’t puke on them.  
“You okay?” He says steadying me with a hand on my shoulder.  
“Whow,” I burp at him. I stare at him until my vision stops spinning, once I can see him, I totally regret burping. God, why am I so disgusting? He’s fucking beautiful and just saved me from falling on my face in front of all these people, and I literally just burped in his face. I’d slap me if I were him.  
But guess what he does. He smiles. I almost cry. He’s so fucking beautiful.   
“Ok buddy, looks like you found the secret stash of alcohol,” he says putting his hand on my back and pushing me towards the back door, “Lucky,” he says under his breath.   
I giggle for some god forsaken reason, and the next slurred, beer drenched word to come from my dumb face hole, is a mumbled, “Pretty.” God, I hate myself.   
The guy just laughs, “Alright, lets just get you out of here before Historia sees you.” I let the pretty, tall, dark haired, freckled boy walk me to the back door. We pass the cool girl who kept giving me beer, she grabs my arm and yanks me and the boy into a hallway.  
“Are you fucking wasted?” she growls at me.  
“Told ya,” I say almost tipping forward onto her, the boy grabs me again. Man, I need to find out the kids name.   
“What the hell? Historia is gonna be pissed.” She tosses my arm aside then looks to the boy standing behind me. “Are you his friend or something?”  
“Uh, no not really, I was just going to get a drink and he almost took a nose dive in front of me. I was going to take him outside for some fresh air or maybe a good puke,” the boy says.   
“Do not let him fucking puke in the grass, just take him home or something,” she demands striding past us and back to the party. Man, it’s so much less fun when you’re the only one drunk.   
“Uh, okay, I don’t know anyone here anyways.” He takes my arm and wraps it around his shoulders, and damn does he have some shoulders, “You think you could point me to your dorm?”  
I grunt in response, he takes it for a yes. This oughtta be good.   
We sneak out the back door. It’s dark outside, but the whole street is lit up with college parties. Drunk kids wander the streets together singing songs and wearing light up jewelry. Damn, I went to the wrong party.   
“I should probably get your name,” the boy says as he helps me across the street.  
“Jean,” I say, hoping I’m articulate enough that he can understand me.   
“Alrighty then Jean, I’m Marco, and I didn’t think this is how my first night at college would end,” he says.  
I laugh, “Me neither.”   
I point him through campus as best I can, being that it’s both dark and I’m drunk. I think we’re in front of the science building right now, but then again, I honestly don’t know where my dorm is in comparison to the science building.   
“Wait,” I huff out to Marco as he hauls me over to a bench.   
“You okay?” He asks, I feel like my brain and my stomach are drowning in beer, everything’s hot, and I can’t see past my arms. And of course, because I’m such the stud that can be cool and hold his liquor in front of a stranger, I puke. Right there, on my shoes, on his shoes; I hate my life.   
Marco pats my back as I continue to heave up all the alcohol I’ve consumed tonight. I sit back on the bench and wipe my mouth with the back of my sleeve.   
“I’m sorry,” I mutter, at least I feel better now. Although my shame has severely increased.   
Marco smiles and pulls a water bottle out of his pocket, “At least it wasn’t on their lawn.” I take the bottle and drink as much as I can without puking again.   
“Your shoes,” I say incapable of saying more than two words to him at a time. I swear, I speak more than caveman.   
Marco looks down at his shoes, he takes the water bottle back and pours some water on both of our feet. They’re not exactly clean, but at least we won’t be leaving a trail of my stomach rejects behind us.   
“You good?” he asks, giving me back the water. I drink the rest of it.   
“Yeah, I guess, but uh,” I look around, “I honestly don’t know where we are.”  
Marco laughs, “Yeah, I thought you might be a lost cause.” He scratches the back of his neck, “Is there someone I can call that can tell us where you live, got any friends or something?”  
God, I know he’s not trying to make me feel bad, but no, I don’t have any friends. That’s actually the reason I’m completely hammered in the first place.   
“Armin,” I say. “He’s my roommate, but I don’t have his number.”  
“Was there anyone at the party you knew?” he asks. Man, this kid deserves some community service time or something. I mean, seriously, who does this kind of stuff?  
“Armin brought me,” I shrug.  
“That’s okay, my roommates should still be there, I’ll call them and see if they know him,” he says pulling out his phone.   
He talks to his roommate, and they end up getting Armin and asking him what hall we live in.   
“Awesome, you’re in Hall Maria, that’s across from mine, I’m in Rose,” he says and stands. He helps me up and waits to see if I need to puke again, but I give him the go ahead and we’re off.   
Macro leds us through campus (we actually had to turn around because I led us so wrong) but we eventually get to Maria. He even takes me upstairs and gets me into my room and in bed. He takes off my shoes and makes sure I’m laying on my side so if I throw up, I won’t choke and die.   
I think he says something to me, but I didn’t catch it. I’m falling asleep but I really want to ask for his number or to say thank you at least. I fall asleep before I can say anything.  
I hate my life.   
-  
Mistakes were made.  
Oh, mistakes were made.   
I wake up and I don’t know what time it is, or where I am, or even who I am. One thing I do know: I’m hungover as fuck.  
I dare myself to open my eyes and regret it immediately. I’m such an idiot. I groan and cover my eyes with my pillow.  
“Morning.” The single word echoes through my skull and shatters everything that felt okay. I’m now very aware of the throbbing pain that’s having a nice little party in my head.  
I groan again and pull the pillow closer to my face, I contemplate suffocating myself for a second.  
“I know you’re probably not in the mood to do anything, but it is your first day of school and I’d suggest you try and make an appearance,” Armin says as delicately as he can.   
I curse myself for getting a responsible roommate; he’s gonna totally guilt trip me out of this one.  
“What time is it?” I whisper into the pillow half wanting him to not hear me.  
“About 7:45,” he says. I hear shuffling and I assume the sidekick is already dressed and looking forward to starting the day. Man, sidekicks.  
My first class is at ten. I know myself well enough to not schedule no damn classes at a god forsaken eight in the morning. I take the pillow off my face and sit up as slowly as I can, not opening my eyes.  
I ask the question that I really don’t want the answer to, “What happened last night?” Right now, it’s a blur. I imagine I’ll be able to remember more throughout the day, but right now I feel like I’m in an entirely unfair universe.  
“I don’t really know, but when we were still at the party last night, Eren said that his roommate called him and was with you, trying to get you back to your dorm. Then I came home and you were puking your guts out. I put two and two together,” Armin says slinging on his backpack.  
I grunt in response. I want to go back to sleep, but I know if I do, I’ll miss class. I should probably just go get some coffee or something.  
“Well, I’ve got class in ten minutes, so I’ll see you around, you might want to take a shower,” Armin smiles and escapes our room before I can throttle him.  
I lazily drag myself out of bed and hobble to the bathroom. Good news: I didn’t end up puking all over the floor, so ten points to me I guess. I take a cold shower and drink some water. I still feel like hell, but a clean hell.  
I go through my phone to see if I accidentally drunk texted anyone last night. Thank god I didn’t, although I wouldn’t put it past me to text Eren a long drunk slopped apology text. I still can’t believe he’s going to Trost with me, I also can’t believe my roommate is best friends with him. It kind of makes me want to get drunk all over again.  
I decide coffee is better to get drunk off of than beer, grab a pair of sunglasses, and head off to a blessed Starbucks.


	6. Emo, Drunk, Mystery Man (Marco POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

Mina and I sit in the university’s Starbucks, coddling our iced lattes, and trying to talk out our first day jitters.  
Mina’s talking about her new roommates who seem both sweet and completely terrifying. I met her roommate Sasha last night at the party, she seemed funny and oddly hungry, Mina says that it’s just how she is.  
I haven’t told anyone about how my evening ended last night. I’ll probably tell Mina, I pretty much tell her everything; not because I want to, but because she kind of digs it out of me. Mina and I have been best friends since high school. We both really need more friends of our own gender; don’t get me wrong, I love Mina, but I can only get manicures and go dress shopping so many times.  
“So what happened to you last night? I thought we were going to walk home together,” Mina says sipping her coffee.  
“Oh yeah, about that, I kind of had an impromptu adventure with a drunk stranger last night,” I say rubbing my jaw.  
Mina’s eyes light up, she leans forward, and narrows her stare. “Ooooh, did you have a sleepover?” she whispers with a smirk.  
“Mina! No, I didn’t have a sleepover. It was the first night of college, you really think I’m that loose?” I ask rolling my eyes.  
She shrugs, “I don’t know, I thought that you might’ve just got lucky.”  
“Right, I don’t think so,” I say and bite a chunk out of my chocolate chip muffin.  
“Well…” Mina says motioning me to keep talking, “What happened? Who is this drunk stranger? Was it a guy? Was he cute?”  
I laugh, “Yes, he was a dude, and he was a little cute but definitely not gay. And anyways, I just kind of ran into him at the party, and he was the only drunk one there. I was going to help him get some air or something but Ymir told me to take him home.”  
“Ooooh, cute. Just because he’s not gay now, doesn’t mean we can’t turn him,” she says like she has a thousand times before. And yeah, Mina and I were a couple in high school, for a long time too. We went out for almost a year. But it’s also kind of how I found out I was gay.  
Yeah, awkward.  
But Mina was really cool about it, and ever since then she’s made it her personal vendetta to get me a boyfriend. She’s only managed a couple of first dates for me, but she’s nothing if not motivated.  
“Right, cute, he threw up on my shoes,” I say picking at my muffin.  
She scrunches her nose, then sighs, “Can’t save ‘em all.”  
Mina and I decided to wake up a little early so we could have breakfast together on our first day. My first class starts at ten, and hers at nine thirty. The university’s Starbucks is oddly large for a coffee shop, but since it’s surrounded by thousands of college students, I can understand why.  
We sit at a window, looking to all the students with schedules out and backpacks loaded walking to their classes. It’s all kind of surreal, there’s been so much build up to this point.  
Mina’s talking about the student rating on her math professor and how the only thing people say is how hot he is, when I see him.  
It’s the guy from last night.  
Drunk dude.  
Jean.  
“Holy crap, look,” I say cutting Mina off, but she doesn’t say anything about it. She follows my finger to where I’m pointing out the window.  
It’s him.  
At least I think it’s him.  
“What? What is it?” Mina asks searching for what I’m looking at.  
“I think that’s the guy from last night,” I mumble still trying to see his face to make sure I’m right.  
He’s in black jeans and an oversized gray sweatshirt with a school logo stenciled on the front. Plus, he’s got obnoxious sunglasses on, probably because he’s hungover. I wonder if he remembers me.  
“Wait, the emo looking one with the sweatshirt and the sunglasses?” Mina asks following him with her stare.  
I roll my eyes at her, “Yeah, yeah, that’s him.”  
“Does your emo, drunk, mystery man have a name?” she smirks.  
“Jean, I think.” We watch him inconspicuously (I’ve learned to have no shame with Mina) as he crosses the courtyard, hands in his pockets, head down, and straight into our Starbucks. “Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap,” I murmur under my breath. I go to duck behind my coffee, but that’s stupid, so I do my best to hide my face and look natural at the same time.  
I don’t know why it’d be weird if he recognized me. It’s just, he probably doesn’t remember me and I don’t want to really remind him of how pitiful he was when he needed a stranger to take him home. And he may look like shit now, but he really is cute.  
“Showtime,” Mina says as she stands and strides toward Jean who’s waiting in line.  
“Mina, no!” I try to grab her arm but she slips away. The heat of a blush rushes to my face, as I try to hide and watch Mina at the same time.  
She stands in line behind Jean, she’s comically short next to him. I mean, I’m maybe and inch or so taller than him, but Mina is a squirt. It’s just funny to see her in comparison.  
Mina stands nonchalantly in line, not doing anything irrational yet. She shoots me a wink and I blush all over again. Jean orders and Mina stands awkwardly close to him as he does. He hands the barista a five and Mina frowns. What the hell is she doing?   
Jean goes to stand and wait for his drink on the other side of the counter with all the other sleep deprived college students, and Mina walks back over to our table with a comical frown on her face.  
“I don’t like him,” Mina says with finality. I laugh as she sits back down. I try to sneak a few more glances at Jean.  
“Why?” I ask her.  
She leans back in her seat and looks over the unsuspecting boy, “He’s mean, he didn’t even say thank you.”  
“He’s hungover and probably embarrassed,” I say feeling a weird need to defend him.  
“So? He can still say thank you,” she mumbles, “Plus, he ordered an iced americano; it’s only water, espresso, and bitterness; just like him.”  
I laugh louder than I should, and I pray for a minute for Jean not to turn around, “Calm down, what’s the big deal anyways?”  
“You don’t need such a mean guy, you’re too nice for that,” she says like she knows the exact type of person that’s perfect for me.  
“Well good thing I’m not dating him then, huh?” I whisper still trying to hide my face from Jean. Mina and I watch him as he takes his drink and walks straight out of the Starbucks, across the courtyard, and back to where he came from.  
I still don’t know if I should’ve said anything.  
Granted, part of this whole college experience thing is to make friends, right? And right now, all I have is Mina (who doesn’t really count because I’ve known her for almost four years now.) I mean, yeah, I’ve met Eren, Reiner, and Berthold, my roommates, but I haven’t really made that extra step to hang out with any of them. We did all go to that party last night, and Eren said that he had some people that he wanted me to meet, but it never happened.   
Maybe I should go after this guy. Not in the stalking-the-campus-grounds -for-prey way that Mina is wanting me to. Maybe just, hang out, like normal people. Would I like a boyfriend in the future? Sure, but not now. I need to focus on school and planting my feet, not the drama of relationships.   
-  
After Mina left for her first bell, I stayed at Starbucks for another twenty minutes until I left for my class. Chemistry, with Professor Zoe.   
The lecture hall is packed with kids, all mostly keeping to themselves and playing on their phones. I assume as the semester goes on, a bunch of the kids will trickle away, either dropping out or switching majors. I don’t plan on going anywhere, Pre-Med, I’m set on it.   
I look around the room hoping to find someone I recognise, maybe one of my roommates or someone from the party last night. And just as I’m about to ditch my efforts in finding someone I know, there he is, again.   
The emo, drunk, mystery man himself.   
Jean.   
I recognise his sweatshirt from this morning, and he’s still wearing those stupid sunglasses. Yup, definitely hungover. I’m sure he’d love it if I came over there and started to bother him. But I don’t think I really have a choice.   
Here goes nothing.   
I shoot Mina a quick text that I found Jean in my Chem lecture and build enough courage to go over there and just sit next to him.   
Yeah, still don’t know if he remembers me.   
He’s near one of the back rows all the way on the edge. So I can either shimmy through a whole row of students to get to him, or I can walk around the back of the room and make and awkward pass behind him.   
I decide on the latter.   
I walk up to Jean and slide behind him, he doesn’t look up but he does scoot in a bit so I have more room. I sit down and place my backpack on the floor between my legs, he doesn’t make any attempt to start a conversation, so I obviously do. (It’s what I do when I’m nervous.)  
“How ya feeling?” I say in a quiet voice as I try to nonchalantly get my textbook and notebook out of my backpack.   
Jean turns to me slowly, peeking over his glasses to get a better look at me.   
Crap, crap, crap, crap, crap.   
“Do I know you?” he asks eerily calm.  
He doesn’t recognise me.  
Dammit, would it’ve killed you to say something normal? Like: hello?   
“Oh uh, I’m, I was the one who t-took you home last night, after Ymir and Historia’s party.” Nice, real smooth. I bet he doesn’t even remember going to a party.  
He stares at me for a few seconds, and I really hope he can’t see me blushing through his sunglasses. Jean pulls his shades down and looks at me like he’s trying to find something. And after a second, he does.   
His eyes light up just before he yanks his sunglasses off and shrugs down his hood, he covers his face with both hands and groans. Great, this is just great.   
“Oh my god, I am so sorry,” Jean says into his hands. He looks back up at me with a face full of guilt, “I was hoping that was a dream.”   
I can finally see his eyes, he looks like shit, but at least he’s sober and not drooling/puking all over himself (and me.) Heavy dark circles hang under his bloodshot amber eyes, full of shame. For some reason I feel the same way.   
I laugh and try to play it off like it was no big deal, “It’s alright, don’t worry about it. Someone was going to have to take you home anyways, you couldn’t even stand on your own.”  
“Did I actually...puke on you?” Jean winces. I blush again and awkwardly shift in my seat.  
“Uh, at least it was only on my shoes,” I wince back at him, knowing that’s not what he wanted to hear.   
Jean puts his head back in his hands, “Fuck man, I’m really sorry.”   
“Really, it’s okay. You made my first night in college unforgettable,” I say trying to make him feel better.   
He smiles, oh god he really is cute, “Well, for the record, I don’t know if you heard me last night, but uh, thanks and all, for doing that.”   
“No problem,” I shrug as the door to the lecture hall slams open and closed in a matter of seconds. Whom I’m assuming is Professor Hanji Zoe, nearly sprints down the stairs to the desk at the front of the room half yelling about the start of a new year with “fresh meat.”  
Professor Zoe is all hands and hysterics, her passion for science is loud and exciting. I kind of get hyped with her. She scribbles something about the periodic table on the board as I try to feverously copy down her notes when Jean leans over and whispers, “This teacher is insane.”   
I laugh a little and try to write notes as I reply, “I like her, she’s got some real passion.”   
“Tch,” Jean says under his breath. I notice that he isn’t writing any notes, that either means that he doesn’t care, is too hungover, or crazy intelligent. With what I’ve gathered about him so far, I’m gonna guess it’s not the third one, no offense.   
“Well,” Jean whispers again as Zoe goes on about atomic weight, “I’ll have to repay you for last night, maybe lunch or coffee or something, I don’t know how these things work.”  
I laugh again and note that Jean is probably going to be a distraction for me in future Chem classes. I should probably just start recording these lectures.   
“Sure, sounds good,” I say, not really having the time to make plans at the moment. I make the bold decision to spare a moment of copying time for notes, and write my phone number on the blank sheet of notebook paper in front of Jean.   
He leans down again and faces me, “Don’t be offended when I tell you that I don’t remember your name, because I was flat out hammered last night.”  
I smile and roll my eyes, taking the sheet of paper back and writing my name above my number. I sneak another glance at him and he’s smiling again, a little pink tinge to his cheeks. I don’t know why I’m embarrassed too.  
For the rest of the lecture, I break a sweat while trying to keep up with Zoe and her passionate ranting of science. Jean pokes in every once and awhile, making jokes or saying something about our teacher on cocaine. My focus is torn between the two, maybe it was a mistake to sit next to the emo, drunk, mystery man.


	7. Like A Fairy Tale (Armin POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Rico dropped another pile of books onto the silver cart with a heavy thud! Armin tried not to jump at the sound but ended up flinching anyway. Rico, his boss, looked up and peered at him through her circular glasses, lips frowning as if in annoyance.   
“All these books are returns that students made this week. Most likely found out they didn’t need the book or got the wrong one. You should be able to get these all put away by the end of your shift.” Her pointer finger aimed at the top row of books and slowly dragged downward to the bottom of the cart. “They should be in order according to our planogram starting with English or literature then math then science then history. Of course, the books are placed by the author’s or authors’ last name so it shouldn’t be too hard to find. If you have any questions, let me know. I’ll be by the checkout.” Rico strolled away without another word.   
“Uh, alright,” Armin stuttered out after her. “I’ll get right on it.” He looked back at the cart again and told himself that she was right: this shouldn’t be too hard. Just like every other library, right?   
It was Thursday afternoon and Armin was at Trost University’s library, working his third shift that week. It had been pretty busy with this being the first week of school and it got overwhelming at times, but Armin liked the job. Being surrounded by hundreds of books always made him feel better.   
He pushed the cart and started forward, heading into the literature section. Now Armin could read almost any book you handed him without question and enjoy it nevertheless, but literature and fictional stories were his favorite. He liked to get lost in the pages of wonders and originality. He liked to open his mind to all sorts of new possibilities and that’s exactly what happened to him when his big blue eyes scanned the shelves of books.   
The Great Gatsby, A Wrinkle in Time, Macbeth, The Hunchback of Notre Dame, Sherlock Holmes. All sorts of classic tales! He couldn’t help but to smile faintly at the recollections of reading these stories, of what happened and what kind of characters he met. He really should check out something by the end of the day…   
He straightened up and mentally shook himself out of his thoughts. No, first put all the books away, and then you can pick something out. Wouldn’t want Rico to get mad at you.   
He started doing just that: plucking a thick book from his cart and then searching through the last names of authors before gently tucking it back into its proper home. This went on for about twenty minutes and he was on his last literature book, The Complete Collection of the Grimm Brothers Fairy Tales and Short Stories, when he peeked through a gap in the books.   
He realized he was looking out into the lounge, where many wooden tables and chairs were spread throughout the deep green carpeting and a tiny counter with a nice coffee machine was tucked to the corner of the room. Only a few students were seated here, studying or simply just enjoying a good book. But one thing seemed to totally capture Armin’s attention.   
A small girl was sitting at a corner table by herself, a thick textbook splayed out in front of her, her bulky backpack nestled into the chair next to her. She was switching from reading the book and taking notes on the side. Pale blonde hair was pulled back into a messy bun but her low bangs curtained the right half of her equally pale face. Because of this, he couldn’t really see much of her facial features besides how long and narrow her nose seemed to be. She had on the university’s sweatshirt that appeared a little too big on her and blue skinny jeans. Occasionally her phone next to her would vibrate and she’d stop writing, pick it up, look at it for a moment or two, and then resume studying.   
Armin’s eyes widened at the sight. His body wouldn’t move but his brain was thinking at a million miles an hour. Why can’t he move? How long has he been standing here, peeking through the bookshelves at a girl like a creep? He doesn’t know her, hasn’t seen her before. She’s nobody special or significant in his life. So why is his heartbeat picking up speed and why can’t he just look away? He usually had an answer for everything, but maybe this one time, he didn’t have one.   
All of a sudden, Armin felt something clamp down on his right shoulder and some presence loom behind him, and a familiar voice whisper in his ear, “What did you see?”   
The blonde boy yelped and dropped the book he was holding, his body brushing against the tall bookshelf next to him, sending more books to the worn-out carpet below them. His face flushed a deep red color as he felt the eyes of everyone in the library glance at the noise he just made, some curious, some annoyed. Everyone including the girl with the pale blonde hair.   
“I-I’m sorry!” Armin called out into the now terrifying silence. “I-I just dropped a few things…” His eyesight caught Rico who was standing over by the checkout, her eyes narrowing into daggers behind her glasses. He waved stupidly at her and then turned around, throwing an angered stare at the perpetrator who scared him half to death.   
“Eren!” he whispered dangerously at his best friend, who had a fist over his mouth, attempting to hold in the laugh that tickled in the back of his throat.   
A short chuckle escaped him as Armin leaned down to pick up all the books he dropped. “Sorry, but it had to be done. You were so wrapped up in something that it was the perfect time to do it.”   
Armin shook his head, placing the books back onto his cart. “My American history teacher did that to me when I dozed off in his class today,” Eren went on, as if Armin had nothing better to do. “Professor Smith; he seems pretty cool but then he does weird stuff like that and then I don’t trust him around my well being.”   
“What are you doing here?” Armin interrupted, annoyance clear in his tone. “You’re never in libraries or bookstores of any kind.”   
“True, but I have a good reason.” He slipped off his backpack and pulled out a thick geometry textbook. “I think I got the wrong one for my math class so I’m here to return it. I saw you putting books away so here you go.” He placed the book atop the literature books.   
It took everything in Armin to not punch his friend in the face. “Well, if that’s all you came to do, you should leave. I have a lot of work to do and you’re distracting me.”   
“Not as much as that girl you were staring at.” Eren glanced through the opening in the bookshelf. “Can’t say I blame ya. She’s kinda cute. Except for that nose.”   
Embarrassment flooded Armin’s round face again. “I wasn’t staring.”   
“Sure, you weren’t. Besides, I’m proud of you. It’s about time you found someone you think is cute. You never seem to notice people’s appearances.”   
Before making the mistake of opening his mouth and protesting, that yes, he did find other people attractive like Mikasa or that short blonde girl that hung around with Sasha and Connie at that party the other night, Eren luckily interrupted him with a sly grin. “I can get you a date if you want.”   
“No, Eren. You’ll screw things up.”   
“Nah, I’m great at this stuff. Has Jean told you what great of a kisser I am?”   
Armin raised one of his thick eyebrows at the unexpected question but, as usual, Eren’s mouth ran faster than his brain and the next thing he knew, the green eyed boy had his hand wrapped around his wrist and was dragging him over to the girl with the pale blonde hair.   
With the Grimm’s Fairy Tales book still in his hand, Armin’s grip on it tightened as panic seized his heart. “Eren, no--” he tried to argue, but he knew nothing would stop Eren; once his mind was set, nothing would slow him down.   
“Hey, there,” Eren greeted the blonde girl, throwing on a very charming smile.   
The girl looked up with a very disinterested look in her eyes. Armin froze up again, just like when he first saw her. Now that her hair was somewhat out of her eyes, he could see her face fully--and wow, she was gorgeous.   
She had thin blonde eyebrows to match her hair color which framed her face perfectly. Her aquamarine eyes were large but they seemed to narrow easily, like she had a naturally angry expression. Her nose, like he noticed before, was sharp and triangular and the way she held up her head made her profile seem more confident, more artistic really. Her lips were thick but they added more to her angled face, as with her pointed chin, high cheekbones, and prominent jaw. She was...nothing like Armin had seen before.   
He must’ve zoned out mentally because he then noticed the girl and Eren staring at him expectantly, like one of them asked him a question.   
“W-What?” he said dumbly.   
Eren rolled his eyes helplessly and glanced back at the girl. “And his name’s Armin. And you are…?”   
The girl set her pencil in the crack of her open textbook and rested her chin in the palm of her hand. “Annie,” came her reply. She had a surprisingly low voice but it was nowhere close to sounding masculine.   
The two boys flinched at the name, one of them intrigued, the other terrified. Wasn’t that the name that was passed around at the party the other night, like it was made of poison or mustard gas?   
“Annie?” Eren asked her. “As in Annie Leonhart? We heard that you’re--”   
“Roommates with Mikasa and Sasha!” Armin quickly interfered. Both students looked at Armin’s frightened and embarrassed reaction again. “Ah, Mikasa Ackerman? W-We also heard you’re friends with Sasha Braus.”   
The girl, Annie, stared mercilessly at Armin a bit longer before blinking slowly and answering in her same low tone. “Yes, I’m roommates with those two, but I wouldn’t call us friends.” She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. “I don’t have a lot of those.”   
“Well, why don’t you start with this guy?” Eren said as he slung his arm around Armin’s neck. Eren asked her this as if he were a game-show host, with way too much enthusiasm and lots of eagerness. “He’s been my best friend since high school and he’s been great at it ever since I met him.”   
“Eren, please stop,” Armin begged under his breath, trying to wiggle out of his grasp.   
“Not to mention that he’s single and ready to mingle,” Eren went on as if Armin never spoke. “Trust me, you can’t get better than this.”   
“Eren--!”   
“Hi, Annie.”   
The boys turned to face a tall, dark-haired man that was now looming over them all like a skyscraper. He had a kind face and was looking down at Annie who hadn’t moved since his arrival. “What are you doing?”   
Annie’s gaze moved slowly up to the man’s. “Nothing. What is it?”   
“Reiner wants to have lunch at that cafe across the street. Wanna come?”   
Annie sighed and began packing up her things. “Sure.”   
“Great.” He looked up and finally seemed to notice Eren and Armin, who stared back with confused looks.  
“Oh, hey, Eren,” the man said, waving a little.   
“Hey, Berthold. What’s up?”   
“Nothing much.”  
“Oh, this is my friend, Armin. I meant to introduce you two the other night at the party but I guess it didn’t happen.” Eren looked at Armin. “Berthold is one of my roommates.”   
Berthold struck out a hand. “Nice to meet you.”   
Armin shook Berthold’s gigantic hand. “Likewise.”   
“Are you guys friends with Annie, too?” Berthold asked. His tone was light and a bit cheerful as if the thought excited him.   
“No, they’re not,” Annie answered as she stood up from her chair, swinging her backpack over her shoulders. “I just met them.”   
“But one day we will,” Eren added hopefully.   
Armin never wanted to slap Eren in his life as much as he did now.   
Berthold chuckled. “That sounds great. Maybe we’ll all hang out one day.”   
“Let’s plan on it.”   
“Cool.” He waved behind him as he and Annie began to stroll out of the library. “I guess we’ll see you around.”   
“See ya.” Eren raised his hand back but Armin just stood there, watching the two depart, watching his chance walk away from him.   
But his heartbeat picked up a little when Annie turned slightly to glance at them, at him.   
Though the innocent glance gave his heart hope, his brain reminded him how low his chances were. He was a short, child-looking, awkward nerd and she was a mysterious, enchanting, beautiful girl. He looked down at the book in his hands. This would make a pretty sad and pathetic fairy tale, wouldn’t it? How the low peasant boy admired the princess’s beauty from afar and only wished of reaching out to her but couldn’t because he was too scared. He couldn’t remember any tale that went like that. Your chances with her are merely fiction, his mind told him. Like a fantasy, not a reality. You can dream it and you can imagine it, but no one like that will ever end up with someone like you. It’s all like your own fairy tale.


	8. Always Love Your Mother (Eren POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Eren Jaeger tugged on his backpack straps as he stepped out of his geometry class and started down the wide hallway of Sina Hall, walking toward his next class, Destination Disease, which began in fifteen minutes.  
He knew that as soon as he stepped outside, Mikasa would be out there, waiting to walk him over to Maria Hall, so he did what he had to do: zip up his hoodie, finish adjusting his backpack straps, and to not get distracted while on his way to class, to get there on time. Mikasa definitely played the role of a mom-friend or older sister and always had to make sure that Eren was okay and keeping up in his life choices. She didn’t do it to just Eren though, she did it to Armin too, and both the boys didn’t mind--after all, they’ve had the time to have gotten used to Mikasa’s motherly ways for several years.   
Eren pushed open one the hall’s grand doors and, just as he expected, Mikasa awaited for him at the bottom of steps, sniffing that old scarf of his that he had given to her almost a decade ago. He didn’t know why she kept the old thing--it was worn-out and the ends were beginning to fringe and she rarely washed it. It really shouldn’t smell that good anyhow.   
He made a mental note to get her a new one sometime soon.   
“Hey,” he said as he passed by her, not really stopping to properly greet her.   
“Hi.” She caught up with him. “How was your class?”   
Eren shrugged. “It was alright, I guess. Professor Ackerman keeps on glaring at me throughout the whole class, though. I can’t help that his class is unbelievably boring.” He looked at Mikasa. “It’s kinda weird that you’re not related to him. I mean, you have the same last name, same looks, and you both don’t smile that much. It’s strange.”   
She looked ahead and went on as though that last part was never spoken. “I can talk to your professor if you’re uncomfortable.”   
“No, it’s fine. I’m just complaining.” He stretched his arms above his head and groaned. “So, have you heard anything from Jean yet? I think he’s still avoiding me.”   
Mikasa shook her head, dark eyes never leaving Maria Hall just ahead of them. “No. I haven’t seen him.”   
Eren narrowed his eyes at the ground, watching his and Mikasa’s feet step in time. Back in middle school, when he and Jean were best friends and before Armin had entered his life, Jean had told Eren that he had a major crush on his adopted sister. The Jaeger boy tried to help him win her heart but he somehow ended up crushing on him too. Eren thought it was weird and a bit confusing. He remembered leaving Jean behind on those bleachers by the school’s football field, trying to think things through as he walked home alone. He also remembered Mikasa coming up to him a few days later with news about Jean.   
“I think I should talk to Jean again,” he told her as they sat in their backyard, gazing up at the blinking stars.   
He felt the focused stare of Mikasa turn to him almost immediately. “You can’t.”   
“Why not?”   
“You just can’t, Eren.”   
He threw an annoyed look at her, thick eyebrows pointed downward, lips curled back in frustration. “You can’t tell me what to do, Mikasa! You’re not my mom or anything so you can’t order me around like I’m your kid or whatever.” He turned around and started pulling out grass by the handful. “I’ll talk to him tomorrow, set things straight.”   
A pause passed by them like a still balloon. He could still feel her gaze linger on him but she always did that. Look at him longer than necessary. It was strange but he let it happen; she’s been doing that ever since his family adopted her from the nearby orphanage.   
But then she did something even stranger: she looked away and spoke into the pine trees that surrounded their house. “I didn’t want to tell you this, but…”   
Eren looked back up at her, strands of dry grass still clamped tightly in his fist. “What?”   
She still had her eyes set ahead of her as she went on in a low tone. “Jean said he doesn’t want to talk to you anymore.”   
“What do you mean?”   
She sighed. “Ever since the day he told you he liked you and you walked away from him, he said he no longer had any feelings for you. He got angry when you walked away, when you told him you didn’t like him back. He hates you, Eren, and he doesn’t want to see you ever again.”   
At the time, it hit him like a pile of rocks, large stones crushing his small lungs. He and Jean had been the best of friends and just because Eren didn’t like him in that way back meant that Jean no longer wished to be his friend? Just like that? The thought angered Eren and he quickly decided the feelings were mutual and he avoided him as much as he could until Jean started going to a private school the following year.   
And it seemed as though fate were on his side when freshman year of high school began did a little blonde boy move in to live with the lonely old man across the street.   
Now that almost five years had went by, Eren had forgiven Jean’s selfish ways of unfriended him and wished to start anew--although it looked like the Kirtstein boy had different plans in mind.   
Eren and Mikasa didn’t say another word as they entered Maria Hall. Mikasa stopped by the doorway to Eren’s next class and bid him goodbye before heading up the stairs to her own class, Sociology 101.   
Eren went to his desk in the front of the room and placed his bulky backpack by the edge of his chair. He unzipped it and got out the class textbook, a notepad, and a sharpened pencil. He flipped through his detailed notes as he waited patiently for class to begin.   
Destination Disease was a science class that told students about illnesses all over the world and how they’re caused, treated, and how to prevent them. The class was required in order for Eren to get his medical degree and he had no problem signing up for it. Although his professor, Doctor Moblit, was a little boring and smelled faintly of beer half the time, Eren caught up with everything he said and even asked a few questions.   
Now College Eren was completely different from Middle School or High School Eren. He hated school when he was younger and it definitely showed in his grades. His GPA was barely above a 3.0 and there were times when he almost failed several classes at once (if it wasn’t for Mikasa or Armin helping him with his homework and tests, he’d definitely wouldn’t be going to Trost University).   
When it came to academics, Eren was the outsider in his family. Mikasa took a few honors classes, his mother was on her way to receiving a degree in accounting way back in the day (“but then I had you and plans changed,” was what his mother always used to say), and his father was one of the top leading brain surgeons in the region. His mother was on top of him with his grades and told him to step it up so he would become successful and lead a life of his own when he exited high school.   
“But I don’t know what to do with it,” he often complained to her. “School is boring and there’s nothing cool to learn about.”   
“You’ll figure it out when the time comes. But for now, just pay attention in school and do what your teachers tell you to do.”   
But he couldn’t get himself to do it. His mind wandered off to faraway places during lectures and he could barely keep his eyes open in the early 7 A.M. classes. It was about two weeks before graduation when Eren came home with a failed math test.   
“Eren!” his mother scolded him, holding his exam in the air. “I told you to study for this! Graduation is in a couple of weeks and you can’t afford to lose to another test!”   
“What’s the point?” he argued back. “There’s nothing interesting or important to learn anymore and I don’t want to do any of it. It’s useless to me.”   
His mother drew a long and deep breath, trying to calm herself down. She spoke again, this time her tone low and controlled. “Eren, do you know why I’m mad?”   
He narrowed his eyes at her like it was obvious. “For getting bad grades.”   
“Nope, another wrong answer.” She ripped the math test in two and let the pieces drift to the kitchen floor as if to prove her point. Eren widened his eyes a bit, surprised with her actions.   
“I’m mad, Eren,” she tried again, “because you’re not taking your future seriously. Yes, grades do help with getting you into a good college and with increasing your intelligence but, in the end, I don’t care if you failed this test or not. What I care about is if you do your best, no matter what it is.” She frowned as her golden brown eyes narrowed in on him. “You’re being a child, Eren, and it’s about time you grew up and start making your own life choices, to pick your battles.”   
He should’ve kept his mouth shut, he should’ve truly listened to her words and apologized and start doing better in school. But he didn’t. Instead he fought back, not knowing when to stop.   
“What I do with my life isn’t your concern! It’s my life, not yours. You can’t tell me what to do.”   
“I am your mother!” she snapped back. “I gave you life! I provided you with a roof over your head, food on your plate, and an unconditional love. You are my son, my flesh and blood, the one thing in this entire world that I care the most for. Why can’t you see that?”   
Eren clutched his head in anger, grinding his teeth together. “This is stupid. I’m done with all this.” He turned and started to head out the front door.   
“Oh, so now you decide to walk away from a fight? Are my words just now getting to you? Are your eyes finally opened? Do you finally see what’s worth fighting for?”   
“Shut up!” With the door halfway opened, he turned back to his mother. “I never want to see you again.”   
The last thing he saw of his dear mother was her heartbroken face and a hand reaching out to him before he slammed the door shut. “Eren--”   
He ran almost the whole night, going wherever his legs took him, not bothering to remember the path home. He punched the air, screamed into the blackened sky, kicked ancient trees. It took him a long time to let everything out, all the negative emotions stirring within him like a tornado, destroying everything in its wake. He walked home and snuck back in around three in the morning and managed to get a couple hours of sleep before school started in the morning.   
But Eren did get his wish: he never did see his mother again.   
Carla Jaeger had died of a rapid and mysterious illness she had caught a few days after the argument. It had started with an innocent headache but then the next thing he knew, she ended up buried in Shiganshina’s cemetery.   
He kept his final words to her in his mind for the next two weeks, regretting them more than anything, cursing himself for being so childish and selfish. His eyes kept to the floor during graduation, even as he walked up to receive his diploma (he only glanced up when the principal called out Mikasa and Armin’s names and watched his best friends walk up the stage and shake the old man’s hand). But other than that, he watched his hands fiddle with the rolled up piece of paper.   
“Eren?” he heard Mikasa mumble to him, her body shifting closer. “Are you okay?”   
She asked him this because she noticed tears staining his diploma and gown.   
He took a shaky breath before he answered, “I’m gonna be a doctor.”   
“What?”   
“I’m gonna be a doctor.” He looked up at her, feeling even more tears slip down his cheeks. “So what happened to Mom won’t happen to anyone else. So...she can forgive me.”   
And that’s why Eren attended Trost University.


	9. Carolina (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

I have no idea what I’m doing.   
Not to be a massive pathetic weird ass socially awkward human being, but I totally forgot what it was like to have a friend.  
God, cringe. I sound like a total stick up the butt nerd, but it’s sadly true. I mean, after the whole Mikasa-Eren-discovering-I’m-Bi thing, I kind of swore off friends in a lame fear that I’d fuck it all up again. So yeah, private school was when I gave the whole antisocial life a try and refined my art talent. Oh, and lots of video games (my hand-eye coordination is sick as hell).   
Having a friend is weird. A good weird. I mean, I remember being friends with Eren and Mikasa, but it’s been so long.   
Marco and I got weirdly close, weirdly fast. Well, I guess that’s probably granted given that the first time we met, he was carrying me home as I puked on him and called him “pretty.” Marco told me that when I forced him to spill every single detail he could recollect of that night. Yeah, no, I still don’t remember half of it. He told me the worst details with a bright red flush across his freckled cheeks and a shameful look in his eyes. I mean, I know I get flirty when I’m drunk, that or angry, but it’s still embarrassing.  
So here I am, climbing to Marco’s dorm on the fourth floor, shamefully out of breath, to bust down his door and yell at him for being late to lunch. It’s quite unlike him, usually I’m the one late, so honestly I’m just coming up here to check on him. I could just call him or something, I don’t really know why I didn’t. Weird.   
Right as I bring my fist to pound Marco’s door, it opens.   
Mina.   
She looks up at me with puffy red eyes and sniffs. She’s been crying. All the sudden I feel guilty for coming up here to yell at Marco. Her gaze turns to a glare, and I instinctively glare back. I don’t like Mina. Honestly, I don’t know why. The only reason I know her is that she’s friends with Marco. Well, she’s “friends” with Marco. I don’t know what they actually are to each other. Half the time they act like a couple and the other half they act like siblings: super fucking weird. I do know that whenever Mina and Marco get all touchy or close, I get this weird tightening in my gut. And with past experience, I like to ignore that feeling.   
I think Mina hates me too. Ever since Marco introduced me to her she’s been edgy and always glaring at me. Like, the fuck did I do? Honestly, I think we have a mutual jealousy or the other. Y’know, the whole fighting-for-the-best-friend-spot thing. She’s got the upper hand though, she’s known him since high school. I don’t like that. I’m selfish, I want one goddamn friend, okay?   
Before I make a snarky remark in the form of a hello, Mina shoves past me and down the corridor. What’s her problem? I awkwardly let myself in, silently praying that Eren isn’t here. Obviously my new friend had to be roommates with the guy, I just can’t get away from him.   
I step inside and peek around, the dorm’s just about as clean as you can imagine a four dudes dorm would be: not very. I’ve noticed that Marco has a weird organization thing though, pretty sure he’s a little OCD. He’s constantly making sure things are laying correctly. One day he came up to me and muttered to himself, “Oh god,” and started straightening everything I was wearing. But you can’t blame me, I was rushing around because I had slept in late so I just threw on whatever was laying around and bolted. He’s really not that bad about it though, like I puked all over the guy's shoes and he just poured a bottle of water on them and called it a day.   
I turn to go to Marco and Eren’s room instinctively and am nearly ran over by Marco as he’s running out of his room pulling a t-shirt over his head.   
“Whoa, slow down there ya big goon,” I say, side stepping to avoid the collision.   
Marco yelps and ungracefully halts to a stop as his head pops out of his t-shirt. He smiles brightly, “Jean!”  
I smile back at him and try to avoid looking at his bare stomach as he pulls the rest of his shirt down.   
“What the hell are you doing?” I ask holding in a snort at his frizzed hair, “And why are you just now putting on a shirt at three o’clock in the afternoon?” My stomach sinks a little as I ask the question, remembering that Mina was just here, and Marco’s putting his shirt on.  
“You’re one to talk,” Marco scoffs, “But would you believe me if I told you my other shirt was soaked in tears?”   
“...Sure, Marco, sure,” I roll my eyes, “And, uh, what happened with Mina? Is she okay?” I pretend to care for Mina: should earn me brownie points with Marco.   
Marco runs a hand through his hair, “Yeah, sorry, that’s why I’m late. She, uh, she gets super emotional on her, uh, period, so we watched The Notebook to make her feel better. I now know that that was a bad idea.”   
See: weirdly close. That has to be what only boyfriends do, right? No one is that nice...right?   
“Oh please, Marco, don’t blame Mina for wanting to watch The Notebook, I know you’ve been itching to see it ever since I told you about it,” Reiner waltzes through the kitchen, straight to the fridge, “And don’t blame all those tears on her either, I heard you, you big sap.”   
“Don’t act like you weren’t crying at Toy Story 3 the other night, Reiner,” Marco sasses. Damn, boy has guts. I’ve noticed that Reiner makes Marco weirdly sassy, I find it hilarious.   
Reiner leans back from the fridge and points at Marco for some reason, “That is a sad movie!”   
I start laughing at the duo’s masculinity contest. Marco just smiles and gives up on it, Reiner’s never an easy one to argue with anyways, I don’t blame him.   
Marco introduced me to his other two roommates, Berthold and Reiner, about a month ago. I like the guys, they’re a couple and have been for almost two years now, impressive seeing that I’ve never been in a relationship. Reiner’s always fun to get worked up about girly movies and what’s the easiest way to knock someone out with one hit, and Bert’s super cool to talk to about stress relief solutions and seventies music. They are quite the pair.   
Bert strides behind Reiner and pats him on the back, “Toy Story 3 may be a sad movie, but The Princess Bride isn’t, and you still cried at that.”  
Reiner spins to his boyfriend behind him, hand across his chest in the most pathetically offended way and gasps, “Traitor.”   
Bert sighs and smiles, kissing Reiner quickly on the lips and turns back to their bedroom. Bert is the master of getting Reiner with one sentence, and getting out.   
Marco bends to put on his shoes, looking up at me, “But yeah, I’m really sorry about being late. I didn’t know that movie was going to run so long,” he says.   
I shrug, “Don’t worry about it, I was going to come up and yell at you anyway.”   
Marco laughs, “Well you can do that as we eat, I’m starving.” He pulls on his messanger bag that’s practically attached to him at all times and motions us out of the dorm. I guess being a Pre Med major grants you a full bag of books at your side 95% of the time.   
-  
Marco and I have lunch in the food court, he works at Chick-Fil-A with Mina part time, so he gets us a discount of our food. Another perk of being friends with him. Shut up, there’s plenty of perks about being friends with Marco and not all of them include getting discounted food.   
We talk about Chem and Mina, I make fun of him for watching The Notebook; he fires back about me calling him pretty, and I shut up. I’ll never get over that one.  
The more I get to know Marco, the more I notice his little quirks; like the way he awkwardly holds his pens with four fingers, and how he always bites the end of his straws, and when he’s thinking he’ll rub his forehead in little circles, and how his eyes crinkle in the corners whenever he smiles or laughs, and how bright his big brown eyes look on a sunny day, and how husky his voice sounds in the morning, and how he walks on his toes whenever he gets excited, and how cute his little sloped nose is, and how long his eyelashes are, and how he-  
...  
Oh shit.


	10. Trouble in Paradise (Marco POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

There is one thing I’ve learned during my three months at college: Chick-fil-a is busy no matter where you go, or what time it is.  
Well, okay, it’s not the only thing I’ve learned, but it certainly is one of the biggest things. I work two or three days a week at the university’s Chick-fil-a with Mina, sometimes we have opposing days, but today we are closing after another crazy busy shift.  
As I’m counting one of the cash drawers and Mina is lounging in an office chair recovering from mopping the floor, my phone chimes-  
Jean: i hope ur ready to get wasted off chocolate ice cream  
I smile at my phone dumbly and send him a quick text back-  
Me: i hope you’re ready to piss your pants in fear  
Mina looks up at me from under her bright red Chick-fil-a visor that’s frizzing her hair a bit, “Is that your dumb boyfriend?” she grumbles.  
I roll my eyes, “He’s not dumb or my boyfriend.” I put my phone down and continue counting one’s.  
“Sure, that’s why you guys have regular movie dates and sleepover at each other’s dorms,” she sasses. I glare at her over my shoulder, she shrugs coldly and pulls her visor back down over her eyes. She’s talking about Jean and I’s weekly (sometimes twice a week) movie nights; Where Jean and Eren will switch dorms for the evening, so both Armin and Eren can hang out, and Jean and I can hang out. Every other week we switch who brings the snacks and who brings the movie. I’ve learned that Jean hates scary movies, so I’ve made it a competition for myself to get a scarier and scarier movie each time. It’s one of the funniest things that’s ever happened to me.   
My chest burns a little with the same frustration I get whenever Mina gets all pissy about Jean, I’ve avoided talking to her about it until now. I turn to her and cross my arms, “Alright, Mina, what going on? Is there something you want to tell me?”  
Mina doesn’t move, she continues to look at the white tiled floor.  
Ever since I introduced Mina to Jean a few weeks ago she’s been cold and angsty whenever I talk about him, I swear it’s like she has something against him for being alive. She keeps making snide remarks and avoids looking at him whenever we all hang out, I’ve never seen her like this before.  
She still says nothing.  
“Mina?” I try to duck into her line of sight, searching for her compliance .   
She sits up lazily and avoids eye contact, she huffs out a puff of air and looks down at her hands as she speaks, “I just don’t get what you see in him.”   
I lean back in my chair, and tilt my head at her, “What do you mean?”  
“He’s not good for you Marco,” she looks up at me, finally, blue eyes pinning me down, “You don’t deserve that.”   
What is she talking about? It’s like she’s my mom telling me not to hang out with a shady group of kids because it’ll cause bad character. I sigh and scan her face, looking for something more to see why she’s thinking this way. When I can’t find anything, I close my eyes and rub my forehead, “What made you hate him so much? He’s done nothing to offend you or to deserve this. Ever since you guys met, it’s like you have a vendetta against him or something.”   
“I don’t hate him, I just don’t think you guys should hang out,” Mina says innocently. A heat of anger rises in my gut.   
Well I wasn’t expecting that.   
I glare at her, “It’s not really your decision to make, is it Mina?” I don’t know why I’ve gotten mad, but Mina’s never been this opposing before. All I want is a friend, can’t she see that?  
She crosses her arms and grumbles something under her breath.   
“What?” I spit.  
“I said that you’re blind, Marco,” she sits up and her voice starts to rise, fiery anger starts to rise between us, something that happens ever so rarely.   
“What’s that supposed to mean?” I start to say but she’s already talking over me.  
“You’re blind and he’s blind and you both can’t what’s happening here! Soon you too are going to be galavanting off of campus and forgetting me like I never mattered!” There are tears in her eyes, her words cut like knifes through the cautiously held tension rising between us, I freeze.  
“Are you...jealous?” I say in a quiet voice, because no matter what happens, Mina is my best friend and I don’t want her to feel this way. Not because of me.   
There’s a long silence as we stare at eachother. I’m desperately trying to read the answer in her eyes, but she won’t let me through. I don’t think she realises that I’m not trying to be against her, and that I don’t want Jean to come between us.   
Thomas skips into the office doorway as we are having this staredown, poor kid, he’s completely unfazed, “I just got all the trash thrown away, is there anything else that needs to be done?”   
Neither of us answer him, technically I’m closing manager tonight, so I should probably tell him to go home or something, but I can’t leave Mina’s piercing stare. Tears continue to form in her eyes; red rimmed and filled with pain. But what is that pain from? I want to understand, I want to help her, but she sees me as the enemy. We hold the stare long enough for Thomas to get uncomfortable.  
“Uh, guys?” he asks nervously.  
There’s another chime of my phone, the screen lights up with another text from Jean-  
Jean: omw, save some chicken for me ;)  
Mina sees the text just as I do, she stands abruptly, “I hope you two have fun tonight, I won’t be at breakfast tomorrow.” She then turns and walks out, past Thomas who seems to be getting more and more confused by the second, and out the back door that I hear slam shut. She’s gone.   
Thomas and I sit there for a moment, Thomas confused, me shellshocked. I cut the kid some slack and clear my throat, “Uh, Thomas, you can, uh... just go home.”  
“O-Okay,” he stutters. He moves quiety as he clocks out on the office computer and goes to leave, “You gonna be okay?” he turns to me as I’m facing away from him, looking down at the cash drawer I still have to count.  
I just nod and he leaves.   
A weird ball of something like guilt and anger sticks in the back of my throat as I sit alone. What have I done? Is she really jealous of Jean and I? But how could she be, she knows how much I love her. What does she see in Jean that’s so bad? And what does she mean that we’re blind?   
These questions rattle through my brain as I try to count money, I end up having to recount the drawer two more times because I’m so distracted. Everything will be fine. This will blow over soon enough.   
Maybe we just need some space to think.  
My heart sinks at the thought.   
-Jean POV-  
I’m waiting outside the backdoor of Chick-fil-a, dicking around on my phone as I wait for Marco to finish up his shift, when Mina bursts from the exit and nearly floors me with the door. I stumble to the side shouting a, “Fuck!” as I nearly fall.   
Mina turns to me, tears spilling down her cheeks, fire in her eyes, she looks even worse when she realizes that it’s me.   
There’s a weird moment of Oh, this is my natural enemy, she deserved whatever happened to her and Shit, this is Marco’s best friend, is she okay? I also have a weird soft spot for crying girls, I don’t know, I have an older sister, she always told me to try and not be an asshole when girls are crying no matter how stupid it may seem.  
This rattles through my head at an alarming speed and yet I still decide to go with my default asshole mode; this is my enemy at least. I glare at her as I realign myself leaning against the wall, saying with my eyes, “Yeah, it was you who pushed me over, fuck you, say sorry.” God, I’m an asshole.  
“Of course you’re here, of course,” she spits as she turns to continue stomping around the back of the building.  
A switch in my brain tells me to be offended and I yell after her, “Hey! What the hell’s your problem?”  
“Just go in there Jean! I’m gone now so you can have him all to yourself!” She yells back as she continues to storm away.  
What the…?  
I stand up from the wall and start after her, anger and confusion motivating my feet and my mouth, “What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!” I shout at her, probably louder than I need to.  
Mina turns on a dime, crossing her arms as I continue to walk to her, “Don’t act stupid Jean, I know what’s going on between you two,” she growls, more tears falling from her eyes. I don’t know if she’s crying because she’s mad or hurt, I assume that it’s both. I wonder if Marco said something to her.   
My mind crosses a blank as I try and file through what in gods name she might be talking about, I stop only a few feet from her and shrug as she continues to glare at me waiting for my answer, “You think I’m a goddamn mind reader or something?”  
She groans and turns again, I grab her shoulder before she can get away, turning her back to me, “No, you’re going to tell me what’s going on if I’m involved, now tell me what the fuck you’re going on about.”  
She glares at me some more (her natural look of disdain for me) and sighs shakily through her tears, wiping at them forcefully, “I’m not stupid Jean, I know you have feelings for Marco…”  
My heart stops.   
I cringe and hope to god that I’m not that transparent.   
“...and I know he going to fall for you eventually. The only thing that’s stopping the both of you, is me.” She crosses her arms after she finished wiping tears from her cheeks.   
I literally have no idea what to say. I also have no idea what she means by “fall for me eventually,” my heart flutters at a fleeting thought, I try to ignore it. I don’t know if she’s implying that Marco might be bi or something, but then I’d understand why she’s so upset right now. I found out a few weeks ago that Mina and Marco used to go out, but I don’t know why they broke up and why they’re still such good friends. I assumed that they are an on-again-off-again type people, but if Marco likes boys too, that might change things.  
I look at her, gut clenched, eye bulging, and no fucking thing to say. I’m standing here looking at her as she glares at me like I’m stupid for not knowing. But she has no idea how dense I can be.  
She huffs in a breath of energy and stands straighter, “And you know what, Jean? I’m going to stay between you two, because he deserves better.”  
Oh.   
Oh, now I have a million things to say.  
“Excuse me? Fuck you, you can’t control who he goes out with,” my voice is rising and my heart is thrumming.   
She raises her eyebrow and smirks a bit, turning on her heel and walking away with confidence, I’m assuming it’s her way of saying, “Oh yeah? Fucking watch me.”  
God, I need to punch something.  
I yell after her, giving up on chasing her down. I don’t even think about the next words I scream at her before they fly out my mouth, “You’re just jealous because he doesn’t love you the same way you do!”   
She turns to me, only fifteen feet away, and gives me a horrifying expression of pure pain. More tears start to stream down her cheeks, her shoulders slump in defeat, and she just looks at me radiating pain.  
Fuck, I shouldn’t have said that.  
I wish a lot of things on my enemy, but not something like this.   
I know that pain.  
I’ve felt that pain.   
That pain of rejection because you are not what the person you love most wants. The pain of having to see who you love leave you for someone else. That pain that’s been with me for nearly five goddamn years of my life.   
Mina still loves Marco.  
But Marco doesn’t love her back.   
And I’m a reminder of that.   
My heart seizes again as I try and go to her, sputtering sloppy apologies from my sinful mouth. She holds her hand out to stop me. I freeze, I don’t want to hurt her anymore.  
“God, Mina, I’m so sorry-”  
“Just go Jean…” she hiccups with a soft sob, god my heart, “You’ve done enough.” She turns again, walking softly and disappearing around to the front of the building, alone.   
I stand there with the weight of what I’ve just said to Marco’s best friend on my heart. God, I’m such a fucking idiot.


	11. The Truth (Marco POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

As I was finishing up closing the rest of the restaurant, Jean stumbles in through the back door, sporting a distant look of shock. He didn’t even look up at me when he came in, I speak up to break him out of it, “Hey, you okay? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”  
He looks up at me a little hazy and blinks a few times shaking his head lightly, “Oh, uh, yeah I’m...I’m fine,” he says swallowing.   
I don’t believe him, but Jean’s not really the person you dig things out of. If he wants to tell you something, he will, if not, just leave it alone. Plus, I don’t really feel like I’d be much help to him right now with how distracted I am about Mina, “Okay,” I mutter under my breath.   
He comes up to me and rest his forearms on the bright red counter beside me, waiting as I shutdown the computers. We don’t say anything for a while, I think we’re both distracted in our own little worlds.   
Jean speaks up as I lock the back door, “So, uh, how was work?” he forces out.  
I kind of smile at his awkward approach, I think he knows that I’m a little out of it too, but I don’t want him to get involved until I know what’s going on.  
“Uh, yeah, it was fine,” I say, obviously out of character. Jean notices.   
“Everything okay with Mina?” he asks nearly innocently. I look up at him surprised that he was so quick to figure out what was going on.   
“Well…” We start walking around the back of the building, falling into a lazy step with each other. It’s about mid-october, so it’s getting darker earlier as the year goes on. Tiny little stars try to poke out of the dark, thinly clouded sky. I’m nervous that Mina went home alone, I’m not comfortable with her being alone in the dark so late at night. I just want to make sure she got home okay, maybe I’ll text her when I get back to the dorm.   
I try to come up with an answer for Jean’s insightful question, “I uh, well...I don’t really-”  
Jean saves me from the struggle, “I just passed her as I was coming here, she looked pretty upset.”  
My heart sinks a little, I sigh shakily, “Yeah, we uh, kind of had it out.”  
Jean nods, stuffing his hands in his jean-jacket pockets, “You want to talk about it?” he asks politely.   
No, I really don’t. And the good thing about Jean is that he respects personal space. And it’s no problem if I tell him that I don’t want to talk about it, with Mina on the other hand: she’d force it out of me, not like it’s a terribly bad thing, but sometimes I just don’t want to have to deal with things.   
I sigh again, “Uh, no, not really.”  
Jean nods again.  
“Do you want to talk about what’s going on with you?” I ask back. He looks over to me and raises an eyebrow.  
“Nothing’s going on with me,” he says like the transparent champ he is.  
“Bull.”  
He rolls his eyes and looks away, sighing as well (it’s been quite a night), “Fine, but no, I don’t want to talk about it either,” he grunts. I’m pretty sure he hates the way I can see through his whole tough-guy persona, he can’t hide things from me like he can to everyone else. I secretly think that he’s never actually met someone who can break his brute ruse.   
“Well then,” I say trying to brighten the mood, “Let’s just go and forget about our problems and distract ourselves with scary ass movies and disgusting amounts of ice cream.”  
Jean laughs, “Agreed.” We both slightly pick up our pace, en route to my dorm.   
“Oh, and by the way, Eren said that Armin was going out with Annie tonight, so he’s just going to stay and watch the movie with us tonight.”  
Jean chokes and coughs abruptly stumbling forward, I go to catch him like I did the night we first met, “Whoa you okay?” I ask holding his shoulder.  
He blinks rapidly and looks up at me, “Uh, yeah, sorry, I just...choked on my spit.”   
Really?  
I give him a look that shows I totally don’t believe it, Jean glares back telling me to drop it. I do.   
We continue to walk, Jean oddly drifting away from me. It’s Eren again. Every time I mention his name a grenade goes off in Jean’s head, making him silent and distant. I have no idea what’s going on between the two, but I’ve gathered that they knew each other in the past. I’m assuming it didn’t end well, and I know for sure that Jean will never tell me what his problem is. But every time I offer for the three or four (plus Armin) of us to hang out, I hope that Jean will warm up more to Eren. Besides, it’s not Eren’s fault for all the awkwardness, he’s totally okay with hanging out with him, but it’s Jean that somehow thinks it’s a death sentence.   
The whole night, Jean sits apart from Eren and I. Plus, he eats zero of his treasured chocolate ice cream. He just watches the movie in the corner, pure silence. Eren and I are having fun but every time I look over at Jean, he won’t look back. He looks almost sick. Maybe worried and confused too. It makes the night unenjoyable, the entire time I’m worrying about Jean, and on top of that, Mina never texted me back after I asked her if she got home okay. I eventually texted Sasha and asked her if Mina was home, to which she said that she was home and crying in her bed. It made both my head and heart hurt.   
I’m pretty sure Eren was the only one who had fun. I don’t think he noticed either mine or Jean’s out of character-ness. But he sure did enjoy the movie and ice cream, I’m glad at least someone did.  
And to put the cherry on top of our terrible night, once the movie was over, Jean  
announced that he was going back to his dorm. Usually we’ll stay at each other’s dorms on our movie nights, but no, not if Eren’s there apparently. I half begged Jean to stay over, I don’t know why it was so important to me, but it felt like if Jean left this night would be a true failure. Jean didn’t give in to any of my protests, he gave up at one point and just stood there, looking at me. He scanned my eyes, I read an apology in his, and he shifted to look down at my chin (or my lips, I couldn’t really tell).   
He opened the door to leave and told me that if I wanted to talk about Mina to call him, and he was gone. I’ve never been so frustrated. What’s with today and my inability to get through to my friends?  
So here I am, unable to sleep, over thinking all the scenarios that happened today. Mina making me feel guilty and heartbroken, Jean making me feel frustrated and confused, both of them making me feel alone.   
I roll onto my side and face the wall that Eren’s bed is resting against, he’s still texting someone, the light from his phone casting a white and greenish shadow on his awkwardly resting face.   
I clear my throat, “Hey Eren?” my voice croaks.  
“Yeah?” he mutters, not turning.   
I figure, if I can’t ask Jean about it, why can’t I ask Eren?   
“What’s the thing between you and Jean?” I ask trying to sound as innocent as possible, if there’s something bad between them I don’t want to make it my business.  
Eren turns and I see his phone light go out, he fades into the black shadows, “He still hasn’t told you?” he asks sounding thoroughly surprised.  
I shake my head, then realize that he can’t see me and mutter, “Nope.”  
He chuckles a bit to himself and I hear him shifting, his bedside lamp then turns on filling the tiny room with bright fluorescent lighting, “Storytime then.”  
I sit up as he is and rest against the wall behind me, chilling my bare back. I feel a little dirty going behind Jean’s back to find out about this whole thing, but I accept that curiosity is a good enough way to die.  
Eren gets more and more animated as he speaks, hands flying and green eyes reflecting the bright light, I still can’t believe that he can always be like this with the small amount of sleep he gets.   
Eren tells me about him, Mikasa, and Jean in middle school. A weird love triangle had brewed between the three, where Jean ended up having a crush on both Eren and Mikasa. It blew up in his face. Eren said that Jean ended up pushing the two away, maybe in fear or embarrassment or anger. With Jean, I’d believe any of the three. Eren said that the trio hadn’t talked since, so it’s been nearly six years.   
The story is awful.   
It’s a terrible thing I’ve learned about Jean’s childhood without his consent.  
And yet, the only thing I can think about is: Jean is bisexual.   
Eren finishes the story and I don’t say anything, I just nod a thanks and go back to bed. Eren doesn’t really think anything of it and just goes back to sleep himself. Boy, the kid can hit the pillow on second and be asleep the next, I can already hear soft snores from his side of the room.   
Jean is bisexual.  
Why do I care about that so much?  
Once I came to terms with my sexuality, I swore to myself to never form romantic feelings for someone who was straight. It only leads to pain, it’s a valid rule at I still live by today.   
But now. Jean likes boys and girls.  
But he’s my friend.   
Just because I know he’s bi now doesn’t mean he likes me back. I need to calm down and just accept the terrible childhood drama I just heard about Jean. I really do feel sorry for him, I can understand why he gets all anxious around Eren now-  
BUT HE’S BI!  
There’s a thrum of excitement that runs through me, doing nothing to help me sleep. In nearly an instant, I’ve undone the walls I’ve put up around Jean and I’s relationship and can see the potential in it.   
I can’t do this.  
I’ll ruin our friendship that’s only just begun.  
But it can be so much more.   
God, I need to talk to Mina.   
I sleep restlessly, waking up every hour to remember the stupid emotional change I’ve made. I can’t believe I’m doing this. But I can’t help it, every time I think about being with Jean, a stupid smile plasters itself to my face and I get butterflies in my stomach. I let myself think about how freaking hot Jean is. Like wow. I think about the way he smiles, in that smirk kind of way where he knows he can’t help it. Man, I love that smile. And whenever we watch scary movies, Jean will latch onto me at the jump scares and I can smell his soap and aftershave.   
I imagine us holding hands as we walk back to my dorm after work. I imagine lunch dates, stealing each other’s clothes, and make out breaks during our study sessions.   
I’ve never had a boyfriend.  
And the thought of having one scares the crap out of me.  
But with Jean, it’s the only thing I can imagine for us.   
Oh god, what have I done?


	12. When Spoken Aloud (Armin POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

The crisp October air felt a little cool against Armin’s skin, goosebumps rising to his peachy surface. He kept his hands in tight fists inside his hoodie pocket and tried not to show just how cold he really was to Annie, who walked beside him with a glare aimed straight ahead, into the quiet night.   
Earlier in the day, Armin was sitting at a lonely bench at Trost Park just outside campus, getting some spare reading done. He peeked up for one moment and recognized Reiner Braun, Berthold Hoover, and (oh, God) Annie Leonhart strolling along the dirt path that circled the large park. He met Reiner shortly after meeting Berthold at the library and knew that the two were a couple and were the other half of Eren’s roommates (beside Marco Bodt); he thought they were good people and very friendly. He could easily walk up to them and start up a conversation, no problem. But with Annie? Not so much.   
For whenever he saw Annie, his heartbeat would pick up speed and he would sometimes forget how to breathe properly. Usually he would identify these symptoms as “social anxiety” but it only occurred whenever the small girl was around. And instead of containing the urge to stay away from her and to avoid any contact with her, he strangely found out that he was dying to speak with her about anything, about everything.   
So he decided to follow his heart’s odd request and stood up to go talk to the trio. Almost immediately, Berthold waved in greetings and asked him how he was doing. Reiner inquired him if he wanted to join them on their afternoon walk (to which he hesitantly agreed to). And Annie just stood there, staring at him wordlessly.   
Armin talked with Reiner and Berthold some before the two giants started to get sidetracked and ended up just talking to each other, their steps slowing down a little while they did so. Annie’s pace didn’t change and she didn’t add to the conversation unless she was directly spoken to, typically with one-word answers. Annie’s social interaction reminded Armin of Jean, slightly. They both tended to keep to themselves and it was really hard to get anything out of them, especially serious topics. But when Jean exploded in sudden rage or impatience, Annie stayed silent and remained emotionless.   
God, she was fascinating.   
Anyway, it ended up getting pretty dark way too quickly and the four students decided to head back to campus. Armin stuttered out that he would walk Annie to the girls dormitory if Reiner and Berthold just wanted to head back to their dorm. He clearly remembered Annie narrowing her ice-colored eyes at him and muttering how she could walk back by herself, but Reiner quickly butted in and said that it was unsafe for a girl to walk alone at night and it would be extremely polite of Armin to walk her back. Annie opened her mouth to protest again but Reiner interrupted by saying the same thing over again. The blonde girl scowled at him before turning briskly and mumbling for Armin to hurry up. The said boy replied something of an agreement and waved behind him at Reiner and Berthold.   
And now here they were.   
Armin nervously racked his brain for something to say as the duo continued to stroll down the cement pathway. “Uh, I-I had a fun time with you today. Er, with you and Reiner and Berthold, I mean.”   
Annie said nothing.   
“We should do something another time…”   
She grunted out something of a response he couldn’t quite identify.   
He bit his lip anxiously. “So uh, how long have you been friends with those two, by the way?”   
She only gave him a silent sideways glance as they strolled along. “O-Oh, okay…” he managed out as his eyes followed her pale hands as they went to tug down on the collar of her leather jacket. He watched her profile, at how her eyes barely seemed to move, like they were trapped on some unknown target. Her pale hair brushed against her nose and scraped against her cheekbone. He held back the powerful urge to tuck it behind her ear.   
Suddenly her black pupils zoomed in on him. “Why do you keep staring at me?” she asked him in a calm but somewhat deadly tone.   
He flinched a little as his cheeks flared up in embarrassment. “Um, uh, well, that’s because…” Shit. What was he supposed to say now? He stared because he was fascinated with the way her long eyelashes brushed against her hair whenever it got in her eyes? Because he was too busy studying her bone structure and facial features like he was preparing for some big test? Because he wondered what it would be like to press his thin lips against her thick ones?   
He replied with an answer that seemed to combine all three: “B-Because I think you’re really pretty.”   
Annie’s eyes widened just the slightest at his unexpected response but they quickly resumed to their natural half-lidded state. He felt his shoulders tense up in nervousness and excitement. That was one of the biggest reactions he’d gotten out of her. She didn’t say anything for the rest of the trip but Armin couldn’t let that facial response escape him; it kept him smiling widely on the inside.   
When they finally reached the girls dormitory, Armin bid her goodbye as she walked up the steps, keeping her eyes on the ground. Just as she grasped the shiny doorknob, she halted and turned halfway to face him. “Hey, thanks for walking me here,” she said in her usual monotone voice.   
Armin grinned up at her. “It was no problem at all.”  
“And...I guess I had fun today too.” She aimed her eyesight to the side when she said this.   
Armin’s chest physically lifted in happiness and his grin widened into an ear-to-ear smile. “That’s good. I’m glad you did. M-Maybe we can do this some other time?”   
Annie paused for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally she half-shrugged and opened the door. “We’ll see,” she replied before stepping in and closing the door behind her.   
The Arlert boy couldn’t keep the smile off his face as he walked back to his dorm.  
-  
Jean was already in when Armin got back. He saw him sitting on the almond-colored couch with his head in his hands like he was seriously distressed about something. With his smile still plastered on his face, Armin closed the door behind him, set his backpack in the corner by the door, and proceeded to remove his jacket.   
“Hey, Jean,” he called out. “What’s up?”   
He failed to give a proper response; he only groaned quietly into his palms.   
“What? Did something happen?”   
He finally lifted his head to look at him. He looked like his frustrated self but there was something else mixed into his brown eyes. “Why weren’t you with Eren tonight?” he asked in an annoyed tone.   
He decided to keep quiet about his recent activity but he wasn’t sure why--for now, at least. “Um, because I had other plans. No offense but why can’t you just get along with Eren for once?”   
“Because he ruined my life.”   
Armin rolled his eyes as he set his jacket on the tiny coat rack. “Seriously, Jean, why--”   
“Armin.”   
The interruption was so clear and sharp that the blonde boy stopped immediately. He watched Jean rub his eyes and then sigh heavily. “Just stop talking. Please.”   
The rude request didn’t even register correctly in Armin’s mind. He just continued to stand there and stare at him, wondering what could possibly be wrong…  
He blinked in realization. “Did something happen with Marco?”   
He knew the freckled boy had been hanging around a lot with Jean and the two were starting to become really good friends. And, to be frank, it seemed like Marco was the only one Jean really cared about.   
Jean didn’t answer, as expected, so Armin took it upon himself to cross the room and sit down next to him on the couch; he made sure that his body faced his roommate’s fully so he’d know that he was listening intently. “Do you want to talk about it?”   
A moment of heavy silence passed before Jean removed his fingers from his eyes and switched to staring at his shoes. “It’s kind of a long story.”   
“Then I’m all ears.” Armin placed his hands in his lap and waited for Jean to begin.   
He sighed--he probably made the conclusion that Armin wasn’t going to take no for an answer and spoke up. “Eren, Mikasa, and I used to be best friends…”   
Jean told the story about his confusing and complicated love life in middle school. He spoke about it casually, like it was something he had gotten over with a long time ago, but Armin knew better. He probably carried it like it was some terrible burden when it really wasn’t all that bad. Armin did remember Eren telling him his own version of this story but he had forgotten Jean’s name over the years when the discussion was stored in his brain back in high school. That’s why he never made the connection between the two.   
And then Jean moved on to his recent encounter with Marco. How he suspects that Mina Carolina, Marco’s ex girlfriend, still has feelings for him. How he hated whenever Eren got in the way with the two boys (physically or mentally). How he believed that he was developing certain feelings for Marco Bodt. Armin listened as best he could, nodding his head along whenever Jean looked at him and barely moving during Jean’s monologue.   
Finally Jean looked straight at him, face serious. “What do you think I should do?”   
Armin tried not to let his surprise show through his features. Jean coming to him for advice? He never thought he’d see the day.   
“Well, to be honest, I think you need to have some serious discussions with a few people.”   
Jean groaned at the thought. “I know, I know.” He scratched his leg as he went on. “But, like, what do I say? Mina’s just so sensitive about it and I don’t want Marco mad at me. And I really don’t wanna talk to Eren.”   
“You and Eren will have to talk eventually. I’m sure he’ll understand. Eren will even be glad to hear that you’re moving on. And besides…” His voice lowered and his glance traveled over to the coffee table set in front of them. “...it’s only a matter of time when he finds out Mikasa’s feelings for him.”   
“I don’t know. He’s kind of an idiot and useless when it comes to this kind of stuff.” Jean said this with a deadpanned look that would make Armin laugh in other circumstances.   
“And you do have to be careful with your words around Mina, okay? You have to let her know that you’re not a threat to her or Marco. She’s a very sweet and loyal girl so it’s going to be very difficult for her to give up her friend, in a way. And I cannot stress this enough but please be patient with her.”   
Jean grumbled some sort of inaudible excuse.   
“And you have to tell Marco how you feel.”   
The Kirtstein boy’s shoulders tensed up. “No.”   
“You have to.”   
“But what if it ends up like the last time? Like with Eren and Mikasa? I can’t go through that again.”   
“It won’t. I promise.”   
“How do you know that?”   
Armin grinned to himself. “I just know, okay?” He had seen Jean and Marco together on a few occasions and every time he did, he noted how Marco would always stare at Jean a little bit longer than necessary.   
Jean sighed again. “Fine. I’ll talk to him some time this week.”   
Armin nodded once. “Good.”   
The two sat in silence for a while before Armin felt his cheeks heat up a little. “Well, since we’re getting things off our chests, there’s some help I need from you, if you don’t mind.”   
Jean looked up at him, one thick eyebrow raised in question. “Okay?”   
Armin sighed and hoped that he was making the right choice by letting Jean know this. “I...really, really like Annie Leonhart.”   
When spoken aloud, he realized that he actually did, that it wasn’t just an assumption in his head but real and true feelings. He bit back the grin creeping on his face.   
Jean, however, didn’t look as pleased as Armin felt. In fact, he looked confused and maybe a bit displeased. “Uh, great. What about it?”   
He shifted in his seat, bringing his thighs up to his chest and wrapping his arms around his legs tightly. “Well, today I went on a walk with Reiner, Berthold, and Annie at Trost Park. It wasn’t planned or anything; I saw them walking around and so I went up to them and we had some small talk for a while before Reiner asked if I wanted to join them. I said sure and we went a few laps around the--”  
“Just get to the point of this story,” Jean cut off with a bored expression on his face and in his voice.   
He frowned at him before changing the course of the topic. “I just...want to get to know Annie better. But she tends to keep to herself and doesn’t really talk much. I want to…” He hid his gaze under his golden bangs, suddenly feeling shy. “...I want to eventually go out with her, you know? Like being alone with her and holding her hand and listen to her talk and just be in her general presence. But I don’t know how to go about it. Like today I kinda told her I thought she was pretty but she didn’t say anything. Was she offended or did she just not know what to say or…?” He trailed off, remembering that exchange and how her eyes widened. She was surprised obviously but the good surprise or the bad surprise? Crap, he didn’t know.   
“Shit, you got it bad.” Jean chuckled quietly to himself.   
“I know. This has never happened to me before. I think about it all the time.” He looked at him. “What would you do?”   
“Besides store it up for years and hope for the best?” Jean smirked at his own foolishness before turning serious again. “I can’t say for sure. I don’t really know her. But maybe you should take your own advice and tell her how you feel.”   
Armin thought about it and knew it would be the right thing to do but, for some reason, he felt like it needed to be something special. That he couldn’t just walk up to her, barely know anything about her or her past or whatever, and just straight out tell her that he literally thinks about her every night? No, it had to be more sentimental than that. He had to let her know, in some way, that he wasn’t joking around and actually cared for her. And for her to take it seriously he felt like he had to know more about her.   
Armin looked back up at Jean and nodded his head. “Alright. If you do it, so will I.”   
Jean shrugged. “Sure, why not?”   
Now it was time for Armin to smirk at his roommate. The blond knew that he would eventually confess to Annie, but he also knew that Jean was a bit short-tempered and didn’t know how to interact with other humans properly.   
All he could do was hope that Jean wouldn’t screw it up--again.


	13. Almost There (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

This is a bad idea.  
This is a very, very bad idea.  
Why did I fucking agree to this?  
I should be at chemistry, but Marco’s there and I really can’t see him right now. I’m huddled under my covers willing my problems away like the grown ass man I am. Armin’s so called “advice” has practically made me into a humanoid creature of pure anxiety. I locked myself away in our dorm all weekend avoiding Marco.   
I fucking promised Armin that I’d tell Marco how I feel.  
Stupid, stupid, stupid.  
He’s gonna hate me. He’s gonna never want to talk to me again. Him and Eren are going to become great friends and laugh about this for years after they’ve forgotten my name and what I look like.   
Ok, ok. I know Marco won’t do that. He’ll probably be really sweet about it. He’ll tell me how flattered he is and that he likes guys too. He won’t feel ashamed of me. He’ll hold my hand and smile that beautiful fucking smile with the little crinkles at the corners of his eyes. Marco will keep me safe. He won’t let what happened in middle school happen again, he’s too kind for that. God, I haven’t even told him about middle school yet. I know the whole time I’m explaining everything to him, he’ll look at me with those rich dark brown eyes fully intent on listening to me. He’ll be so close that I’ll be able to count every single freckle that flit across his cheeks. He’ll be chewing his bottom lip as he thinks about it, reddening them and making it so perfect just to-  
Fuck I’m doing it again.  
Ugghhh, I could cry.  
I can’t do this.   
Marco’s been texting me all weekend telling me he wants to see me. I haven’t responded to any to his messages. Except when he threatened a few times that he was going to come over to my dorm, then I made up a lie about being busy or something. God, I hate lying to him.   
About fifteen minutes ago, he noticed that I wasn’t at chemistry. He texted me asking if I was sick, I didn’t answer. After ten minutes of self loathing, he said that he was coming over whether I wanted him to or not.   
So yeah. Fuck.  
I’ve been in bed for two whole days watching rom-coms and slasher movies (appropriate for my situation I think.) I haven’t showered and I’ve eaten all the food this dorm had. And now the boy I’m half fucking in love with is coming over because he cares about me.   
I can either run or hide.  
The subconscious that has been rooted into my brain recently, tells me to stay. It sounds like Armin.   
Fucking optimistic side kicks.   
-  
Marco POV: Part 2  
It’s been days.   
The last time I saw Jean, he was giving me the silent treatment and bolted out of my dorm barely saying a word.   
And now he won’t text me back.   
Did I do something? Did I say something?   
I have that sick pulling tension in my gut telling me that it might have something to do with how I have been thinking of Jean lately. Like how I can’t think of him as a friend. I can only think of him as something much, much more.   
But he can’t possibly know about that. I haven’t told anyone. Not even Mina. Who I also haven’t talked to in three days. I don’t know if she hates me either. I still don’t understand her blow up the other night. All I’ve been doing these past three days was texting Jean and Mina, and getting no responses from either of them. You could say I’ve had a rough weekend.   
But that ends today. Jean didn’t even bother to show up to chemistry, so I think that’s an excuse that’ll suffice for me stomping over to his dorm and facing him about everything that’s been going on.   
Which is what I’m doing now.   
I barely processed anything that we learned in chem. Professor Zoe had even asked me a question in front of everyone and I just sputtered out something completely random, it obviously wasn’t the answer she was looking for. All I could think about was what to say to Jean. I mean, I thought about it the whole class period and I still don’t know what to say. I hope I figure it out soon, if I don’t I might just rush in there and kiss him. Then we’d have a lot more problems.   
I squeeze on the straps of my backpack to try and release some tension as I jog up the stairs to Jean’s dorm. I walk down the beige colored hall, passing three doors on the left and stopping at the fourth. A familiar scent of cleaning products and fast food float around the hall as I stand in front of Jean’s door, having no idea what to do.   
Just as I’m about to knock, the door opens, revealing Jean with wet hair, no shirt, a giant bag of trash, and a freaked out look on his face.   
He flinches when he sees me with my knuckles in the air, “Fuck!” he blurts and stumbles back, “You scared me,” he says with a hand clutched to his bare chest.  
I have no idea what to say. My mind is a blackhole. Completely nothing.  
Jean shirtless has rendered me speechless.   
I can feel my cheeks and neck heat up in a blush. Crap crap crap crap crap, say something. My mouth opens and nothing comes out. He’s looking at me as he straightens back out with an eyebrow raised, but I barely notice it. All I can see is his bare chest; a fine layer of hair spreading across his pecs, water dripping from his hair onto his pale shoulders, dark hair that makes a line under his belly button down to his-  
“You okay?” Jean asks bringing my mind back to reality. I force my eyes to his face, he’s blushing too, I give up hope on thinking that my quick oogling session had gone unnoticed. Thank god Jean isn’t an asshole enough to call me out on it.   
“Uh, y-yeah, I just…” I look back down at the giant black trash bag in his hand, “You skipped chem to clean?”  
He looks down at his hand, “Oh, I uh...Armin’s been- I don’t…” he sighs and his shoulders slump forward. I’m pretty sure he was trying to brew up a lie that didn’t work. He looks at me with gold eyes full of shame, guilt, and something else I can’t place. My heart rate picks up, I don’t know why I’m nervous.   
I’m still standing awkwardly outside the doorway, I notice that Jean’s side of the dorm actually is cleaner than usual. I wonder why.   
Jean’s still looking at me, I haven’t seen him since I formed my surprise crush on him, and now, with him standing in front of me, I notice everything. It’s odd seeing him as a potential boyfriend, I’ve never looked at him, in the flesh, that way. But it’s amazing. I’ve held back for so long for so many guys, but now, it can really happen. I notice how the light brightens his golden and green flecked eyes, the sharp edge of his jawline leading to his toned neck, the curve of his biceps and veins leading to the backs of his hands, the shape of his shoulders leading to his narrow hips, the defined curves of his muscles on his abdomen, the band of his underwear lined along the edge of his jeans that are hanging off his hips. Damn.   
“I guess, uh, we need to talk,” Jean says reaching up to scratch the back of his neck, I see his bicep flex as he does and I nearly swoon. His eyes fall to my shoes, I look down at them as well; apparently I am unable to look at Jean without checking him out.   
“Yeah…” I sigh shifting between my feet.   
“Here,” Jean mutters. He steps toward and I have a sudden rush of anxiety as he leans around me and sets the garbage bag outside his door. We are awkwardly close both standing in the doorway, but he doesn’t seem to notice. He steps back inside and looks at me expectantly, “It’s okay, you can come in, I don’t bite,” he smiles at his own joke and it makes the air between us gratefully lighter.   
I walk in and I don’t really know where to go. Do I stand? Do I sit? I should sit. But where? Sitting on Armin’s bed would be weird and sitting on Jean’s bed would be weirder. I should sit on the couch. Should I? Jean’s not sitting.  
My anxiety is making me start to sweat and completely overthink things. Too many nervous questions rattle through my brain as I watch Jean pull on a faded green t-shirt. I don’t know when I started to talk, but here I am, “Did I do something? Are-Are you mad about Friday night? I didn’t know that Eren would bother you so much I wouldn’t have invited him if I did. And I’m really really sorry for making you watch all those scary movies I wasn’t trying to make you mad I just thought-I just- it was fun for us but I know that sounds completely sadistic and I’m completely okay if we stop watching them because I really like hanging out with you and I-I don’t want something stupid I do to push you away because…”  
“Marco-” Jean tries to stop me in a calm even voice, it doesn’t work.  
“...we’ve become such good friends and I really like hanging-hanging out with you. And I don’t know if Mina’s said anything to-to you because she’s been weird lately and I don’t want you to have to-I don’t want you to get caught in the middle of that and I…”  
“Marco-” Jean says a little louder, I still don’t stop.  
“...Please Jean I just don’t want whatever’s going on to stop-to make us-to make things weird okay? I just-I just really like y-”  
“Marco!” Jean shouts and grabs me by my shoulders, forcing me to shut up. I’m glad he did, I almost said something I shouldn’t have. My heart’s thrumming in my chest and I can’t tear my eyes from the pained look on Jean’s face, “It’s not you, it’s not Eren, it’s not Mina, and it’s certainly not the goddamn scary movies! I just-” Jean’s face gets red and he’s sucks in a breath of air. His grip on me softens and his hands slide to my elbows, steadying the both of us. He looks down at my feet again, I ache to see his eyes, but all he gives me is a gentle squeeze at my elbows.   
“You just...what?” I ask quietly, my voice feeling so loud when we’re so close. He just breathes, looking down at our feet clinging onto my arms, “Jean, why did you leave on Friday?”   
“Do you love Mina?” he asks ignoring my question. What? What kind of question is that? Why isn’t he looking at me? Is Mina really bothering him?  
“Of-of course I do, she’s been my best friend for years-” Jean rips away from me and I suddenly feel cold.  
“No Marco,” he says, his voice rising, “Not like that, like-like are you guys together? Like are you in love?” Jean asks his hands waving about as he looks at my feet now farther than arm's reach away. I want him to come closer.   
“I...no, Jean, I’m not in love with her,” I sigh still not understanding why he asked. My stomach tightens at the thought of what I’m about to say, “...I can’t.”   
Jean’s head pops up and he looks at me with piercing eyes, suddenly unafraid to look at me in the face, “Why can’t you?” his voice is strong and his stance unwavering, whatever hesitation he had before, it’s gone.   
I give a little shrug, “I’m gay.”   
His gaze softens and I think I even see a hint of a smile. The fists that he’s been clenching at his sides relax and he looks back at the ground, actually smiling after a moment. He runs a hand through his hair and continues to grin like a goof, “Thank god,” he mumbles.   
Something in my chest feels like a butterfly tickling at my heartstrings, “What?”  
“Uh, no-nothing, I just-it was, uh, confusing and weird, I guess,” Jean stumbles scratching the back of his neck.   
That lovely fluttering in my chest freezes. Really? “Oh yeah? Mina and I are weird, what about you and Eren?”  
Jean freezes. Ha, got him. His relaxed and nearly happy face, falls. Finally he’s going to have to explain himself. “I uh-I don’t really-we shouldn’t-”  
“No, Jean,” I step towards him, he looks up at me all tense, “I deserve an explanation by now, I’m not stupid.”  
He swallows (he literally swallows) and sighs, “Okay, okay...you’re right, I’ll tell you.” He collapses on the old couch only a foot or so away from us, I follow suit putting my backpack down and sitting beside him, my feet crossed under me and my long legs making my knees poke out over Jeans lap, neither of us move though. “It was in eighth grade, I was best friends with Eren and-”  
“No,” I wave my hand at him, “I already know the story Jean. I want to know why you stopped talking to them, and why you still won’t talk to them now.”  
Jean’s eyes nearly pop out of his head, “You already know?!” he shouts sitting up abruptly. “How!”  
I shrug, “Eren told me.”  
“What?!” Jean jumps up from the couch his hands start flying again, “Why?!”  
I almost laugh at his exasperation, “I asked him.”  
He continues to freak out, “What?! You asked him? Why didn’t you ask me?!”  
I stand now too, now on even stare down level, “Seriously? I tried asking you a million times! You always avoided answering me or just flat out ignored me,” I raise my voice as well, not as much as him though. I rarely yell, and Jean uses it like a second language.   
“Still! That’s not his to tell!” He yells back at me. I may be able to out-intimidate Jean as I straighten out to loom over him, but what he lacks in height, he makes us for in rage. We’re equal opponents.   
“What do you mean it’s not his to tell? He’s a part of it!” We’re so close, I’m scared that if I get any closer Jean might try to punch me. Jean doesn’t say anything, only staring me down with his fury filled eyes, “What’s your problem anyway? It happened so long ago, you all should be over it by now,” I soften my voice and try to level his glare with a genuine look. He stares for a second longer, then turns on his heel.  
He huffs out a puff of air that ends in a sigh. His back is facing me and his balled fists release as he runs his hands down his face, “Because Marco,” he turns back to me, “I’m fucking scared it’ll happen again, alright? There it is: I’m scared, you happy?” He gives me another glare as I’m standing here trying to soak it in and understand it. He rolls his eyes and drags himself over to his bed across the room and collapses on it, covering his face with his arm.   
First of all: it’s astounding that he even admitted to being scared, period. Second of all: he admitted to being scared about having another relationship blow up in his face because he has feelings for someone. But how does that relate to Eren now? How does that relate to me?   
I step over to Jean huddled on his bed. I want to run my hand through his hair and kiss him on his forehead and tell him everything will be okay, but I don’t. But somehow, I summon the courage to grab his hand that’s hung over his face and pull his arm back, forcing him to look up at me. Our hands are awkward and it’s more like I’m clawing at his fist, but neither of us pull away. He looks up at me dreadfully. Embarrassment, shame, anger, and some sort of dull sadness make his eyes dark and worn, I don’t want him to be feeling this way.   
“Why won’t you talk to Eren?” I ask looking down at him pitifully.   
“Because Mikasa will kill me,” Jean sighs, letting me continue to hold his arm away from his face.   
“Mikasa? Why?”   
“Because she’s in love with him,” he sighs again like it’s not some kind of bomb he just dropped. The look on my face must tell Jean everything that’s going through my head, because he takes his hand back and sits up, leaning against the wall and leaving room for me to sit next to his crossed legs. “I don’t know what Eren told you about how we stopped talking to each other, but the truth is: Mikasa had forced me to stop talking to Eren. I figured out that she had a crush on him, and from that point on Mikasa said that I could never talk to him again. I think she may have been nervous that Eren might’ve taken action somehow, and she couldn’t have that. So she threatened to, I don’t know, kill me if I ever tried to even look at him.”  
Wow.   
Eren didn’t tell me any of that. He said that Mikasa had told him that Jean hated him after being rejected. I thought that sounded weird when I heard it, I could understand Jean being dickish and lying like that just to hide the fact that he actually cares, but just being flat out “I’m never talking to you again,” seemed very unlike Jean.  
But Mikasa and Eren. I always thought they had an oddly close relationship for being siblings. I mean, I have a younger brother and we’re close but nothing like Mikasa and Eren. I thought it might’ve just been an adopted kid thing. Evidently, I’m wrong.   
“She should tell him,” I finally say. Jean perks up after waiting for me to think through his dilemma.   
“Uh, what? Are you crazy?” He asks almost genuinely.   
“Maybe,” I shrug, “But if she’s been waiting this long, she needs to tell him, it’s only fair.” I tell myself to shut up about the nagging of how I should follow my own advice.   
“You sound like Armin,” Jean laughs a bit, “But, no, I don’t think that’s ever going to happen unless someone else tells him.”  
“Maybe we can,” I shrug again. Sorry, I can’t help a good love story, I’m a hopeless romantic.   
Jean furrows his brows and sticks his hand out and rests it on my forehead, holding it there for a moment, then pulls away, “I think you might be sick, you’re hot and talking crazy.”   
I’m gonna take a second to process that he called me hot…  
Ok, I’m good.  
“No, I’m serious,” I grab him by the shoulders and shake him, “It’s true looove.”  
“Whatever you’re fucking bat shit crazy,” Jean laughs as he brushes me off.   
“Who else knows?” I ask leaning down on Jean’s legs, he doesn’t seem to mind.  
“I think only Armin.” I nod and secretly formulate a plan to try and get Eren to realize that Mikasa has feelings for him. Jean nudges me with his leg, “Hey, but seriously, don’t tell Eren, I wasn’t supposed to tell anyone anyways.”  
“Okay okay,” I grumble. I’ll think about it, is what I’m actually saying.   
We sit there for a while, both kind of worn out from yelling at each other. I’ve already missed my French class, but it doesn’t really bother me. I’d rather be here with Jean. I told him that I’m gay and the first thing he said was, “Thank god,” my stomach flutters at the thought again.   
“So Marco,” Jean mumbles. I look up at him expecting his eyes, but they’re looking down at my hand that’s resting on the bedding between us, “Eren told you that I, uh, like girls...and boys?”  
The thrumming in my chest returns and is stronger than ever, I feel like I might burst. I can’t read anything off of him. His eyes are casted down at my hand, is he trying to signal or does he just need to talk about his sexuality? I have no idea what to do. Should I make the first move? Does he even want that? My fingers twitch and ache for the warm comfort of Jean’s hand, but I’d hate to do something that’d turn this for the worst.  
“...yeah,” I mumble looking down at my hand too, searching for Jean’s. After painful moments of agonizing questioning, Jean’s hand drags over the sheets and comes within an inch of my fingers.   
Okay Jean, I got you.   
I move my fingers to slide them trembling in between Jean’s as he invites me pleasingly. Our fingers intertwine slowly and lock together, holding each other there, both scared to make any sudden movements. Jean gently runs his thumb over mine and I think I might scream. Or cry. Or jump up in the air and do a little dance. All these options are rational.   
We stay there looking down at our hands, Jean still gently rubbing my thumb. I don’t think I could look at him right now, I have no idea what I’d do. I just need to thank the holy heaven for this miracle.   
“Hey Marco?” Jean says in nearly a whisper. My heart thrums at what he might say.   
“Yeah?” I whisper back.  
“Do you still have that scary movie we watched on Friday? I didn’t watch most of it,” he asks.  
I summon the courage to look up at him and smile, “Yeah, do you still have that ice cream?”  
Jean looks at me with his beautiful gold and green eyes and giggles, “No I ate it all.”   
We both laugh, still holding hands. I dread having to let go to fish the movie out of my back pack. And honestly this is probably the farthest I’ve gotten with a boy- ever. But with Jean’s experience, which is none, I don’t feel so nervous. It’s not that I don’t know what to do, I just don’t want to do the wrong thing. I’ve never had a boyfriend and never really worried about it, but with Jean, I crave for it, I ache for it. It’s all I can think about for us and all I can think about in general.   
I need it, I need us, I need him.


	14. What Are We? (Connie POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

When the doorbell rang throughout the frat house, Connie yelled “I got it!” and then heard the rest of the doped men mumble back sounds of agreement. He whipped open his bedroom door, flew down the hallway, and jumped down the stairs. Before he opened the front door, he peeked in the mirror that hung on the wall and quickly straightened his loose-fitting shirt, rubbed his eyes to make him seem more awake, and, for a reason he doesn’t understand, ran a hand through his buzzcut hair.   
He pulled open the door and was greeted with the sight of Sasha Braus.   
“What up, little man?” She saluted him like how a military man would. “You ready to go?”   
“Yeah.” He patted his back pocket and then sighed in frustration. “No, I’m not. I need my wallet.” He stepped aside and beckoned the ponytailed girl inside. “Come on in. It’ll take me a while to find it.”   
Sasha obeyed and walked into the household. She peered into the living room on the left and waved at all the smoking teenagers lying about. “Hey, guys,” she said as Connie closed the front door behind her.   
Nearly all the boys lifted their drunken arms in the air and called back in a drowsy tone. The calls were either “Heeyyy, Sasha” or “Potato Girllll” or something else long and incoherent. Sasha came over enough times for everyone to know her name, her major, and some of her history with Connie. They treated her the same as they did with him: helpful with life advice but super lazy in every other way.   
As his roommates started conversations with Sasha, Connie rummaged through the trashed living room in hopes of finding his small wallet.   
“What’s going on, Sasha?” Tie-Dye asked her, waving from his spot on the couch. Today he wore a brightly tie-dyed sweatshirt and had his dreadlocks pulled up into a tight knot on the top of his head. “How’s life been treatin’ ya?”   
“The same, I guess. Nothing’s changed these past few months.” She crossed her arms and leaned against the wall, grinning. “What about you?”   
“Ah, life is good, young one.” He shifted in his seat and fished around in his back pocket for something. “Speaking of which, I’ve got some--”  
“Don’t give her weed, Tie-Dye,” Connie ordered him, shooting the doped student a glare before going through the dirty laundry spread throughout the hardwood flooring. “Sasha is only allowed one drug and that is caffeine--on some days. So stop trying to offer her some.”   
Connie heard her giggle behind her hand, proving her guiltiness. He’d seen one too many times Sasha fly off the walls while high on some heavily caffeine drink like soda or coffee. Over the years, he learned that it would be best if she were limited to one cup of caffeine per day--or else things would get weird.   
The boys continued to speak with Sasha and she answered honestly and with a touch of childish humor on the side as Connie searched and searched for his wallet, growing more irritated by the second, until he spotted its familiar worn-out leather peeking out from a wrinkled McDonald’s take-out bag in the corner of the room. He grabbed it and held it victoriously in the air. “Gotcha!” he shouted before standing back up and meeting Sasha by her place at the doorway.   
“Now we can go,” he said, stuffing the money-holder in his baggy jeans pocket.   
Sasha straightened up and the two were on their way out when they heard the low voice of Tie-Dye catch up to them. “Hey, wait a minute, Connie.”   
The duo stopped where they were, watching Tie-Dye slowly get up from the couch and stumble over to the front door. “What’s up, man?” Connie asked, looking up at the man that practically loomed over him.   
He reeked of body odor and cigarette smoke but both Connie and Sasha had gotten used to it long ago. He leaned down a bit and lowered his voice as well. “Hey, I wanted to ask ya this for a while but wasn’t sure how to, like, go about it. I also don’t wanna offend you guys for anything.”   
Connie’s thin eyebrows scrunched up in confusion. “What are you high on now?”  
“Many things, my man, but that’s for a later time. I was just curious but…” He peeked over his shoulder like he was hiding some deep secret before turning back to them. “Are you guys, like, hooking up or something?”   
Connie saw Sasha visibly flinch beside him and felt panic rise to his chest. “Uh, what do you mean ‘hooking up’?” Sasha asked in a nervous voice, although he had a feeling that both of them already knew what he was talking about.   
“Ya know, like, havin’ sex somewhere or--”   
He never got to finish his sentence because Sasha just flat out screamed in embarrassment at his face and Connie quickly grabbed his friend by the wrist and shot out of the house like a rocket, dragging her freaked-out ass out of there.   
“OkaymeandSashawillbeoutseeyouwhenwegethomeBYE!” the Springer boy shouted behind him as Tie-Dye stood in the doorway in confusion.   
The two didn’t stop running until they were deep inside Trost City.   
They were supposed to see a movie but they silently agreed that they would skip it and instead grab some ice cream and walk around town. Connie looked everywhere but at Sasha and Sasha stared at her brown boots, her hair covering her expression. He thought about what his roommate had said and felt his face heat up. Why would he say something like that? Did he think that every time he and Sasha went out (which happened often)? Did the rest of the guys think that too? No one has ever said anything like that to him and he’s never thought of Sasha that way. She was his friend, his best friend, and nothing more. Right?   
They only made small talk like “the weather isn’t so bad” and “how are classes?” to each other until they reached the small ice cream parlor by the edge of town. Connie got a chocolate milkshake and Sasha got two scoops of cookie dough in a bowl. The duo made their way to the edge of the sidewalk in front of the parlor and sat down with their desserts, watching and listening to the cars zooming by.   
They ate in silence for a while. When the atmosphere grew even more uncomfortable, Connie glanced up at the girl sitting beside him, wanting to say something to break it. But nothing came to mind and watched her instead.   
She dipped her spoon into the ice cream but didn’t scoop anything up. She just brought her utensil back up and repeated the same action over and over again, making little designs in the frozen treat. She would sometimes curve the spoon and end up creating an oddly-shaped smiley face.   
She’s done that ever since I can remember, Connie thought to himself before more tiny details of Sasha suddenly hit him, coming in like bullets. Like how she only wore her hair down when she was showering, sleeping, or feeling sick. How that small dimple on the left side of her cheek always appeared before she smiled. How the ringtone on her phone was the opening theme of some anime and always changed it whenever she watched a new one.   
These unexpected thoughts stopped when Sasha finally spoke up: “Connie, I think we need to talk.”   
He blinked and turned back to the road. “Yeah…”   
Silence overcame them again. They watched the road as rush hour was coming to a stop and fewer cars passed in front of them. He heard Sasha laugh breathlessly beside him. “But I don’t know what to say.”   
He didn’t either but he knew he had to say something; this overbearing silence was too much for him. He looked at her. “Um, to be honest, I’ve never thought of you in that way before.”   
Sasha looked at him, surprise crossing her face. “Yeah, me neither.”   
“You’re my best friend, my sister, not a...lover or whatever.” He sipped his milkshake, looking back to the road.   
“Yeah…” He felt her stare on him when she paused and picked up again. “We’ve known each other for practically our whole lives and never once did I think of, you know, dating you. Not even when my family moved and I stayed here to be with you.”   
Connie nodded in understanding. Back when high school was just about to start, Sasha’s family broke the news that they were moving to the other side of the country, to some unheard of town in the middle of nowhere. Sasha refused to move, saying that she couldn’t leave Connie, that there was no other place she’d rather be. After weeks of denying the move, one of Sasha’s uncles, who was single and living alone, offered to take her in, promising her family that he would take care of her. Connie remembered saying the same thing to her parents; he didn’t want her to leave, they were inseparable and not some unknown town was gonna prove them wrong. Her parents eventually gave in and let her stay with her uncle but they stayed in touch and actually came back to visit her at times. He tried to remember if he felt anything more for Sasha than he did now but he didn’t think so. Then again it was such a long time ago.   
As this memory played through Connie’s head, Sasha asked the question they both didn’t know how to answer: “What are we exactly?”   
Connie sighed and shrugged his shoulders in defeat. “I don’t really know.”   
The upcoming silence didn’t last as long as the others for Sasha shook her head in refusal and looked back at Connie. “This is stupid. We shouldn’t be sitting here, freaking out over what we mean to each other. It’s a waste of time.” She smiled, that little dimple creasing her cheek. “We know that we care about each other and that’s that. As long as we’re happy, no one can tell us what to do. Right?”   
Connie smirked in relief. That panic feeling in his chest faded away as the Sasha he knew came back to him. “Right.”   
He swung an arm around her shoulders and she did the same around his waist and they leaned against each other, looking out into the now vacant road, off in their own little world again.


	15. As You Wish (Reiner POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

“You always want to watch that one,” Berthold wines as he flips through movies on Netflix.   
“It’s a good movie, it has a great plot, great character development, and the perfect mix of romance, humor, and adventure,” I say, looking up at him from my place half sprawled on top of him and half on my bed, our legs twisted together in a mess of long limbs. I’m still shirtless from our previous make out session, I didn’t bother putting a shirt back on because I know Bert likes it, he lays with his head propped up by a pillow, one hand fidgeting with the remote and the other idly drawing circles on my back; told ya he likes it. I look up at him, waiting for the eye roll, I know it’s coming, he always does it when he gives up. He’s been a part of our relationship long enough for him to know that arguing with me is pointless.  
Bert rolls his pretty brown eyes in surrender, “Yeah yeah, Reiner, you win. The Princess Bride it is,” he grumbles and brings it up on Netflix.   
I smile and lean up to kiss his nose, “I thought there was a reason I love you.”   
“Shut up,” he blushes. Right as I’m about to say something about his blushing, there’s a light knock at the door. I groan as I flop off Bert ungracefully and mutter an, “I’ll get it.”   
I drag my bare feet to the front door of our dorm, I know Eren and Marco aren’t here. Eren’s probably with Mikasa or Armin, being a little shit, and Marco’s probably drooling over Jean somewhere. Don’t really know who’s knocking at our door though, most of the time people will just yell for us to let them in: college is college.   
I open the door and don’t bother trying to fix myself before I do. It’s the weekend and I’m supposed to be having uninterrupted sex with my adorable boyfriend as The Princess Bride plays in the background. Anything besides that is a waste of time.   
That is until I realize who’s standing in my doorway.  
She’s standing there, wearing a dark blue pencil skirt, a gray blazer, and her legendary scowl.  
“Mom?” I croak. I’m suddenly very aware that I’m only wearing sweatpants and probably have cowlicked make-out hair.   
I can’t move. The only person that can level me with a stare is my mother. Well, Bert can, but his is in a different kind of way. I can already feel myself resort to my childhood cowardice.   
“Reiner,” she states mirthlessly. The last time we talked, well, could’ve gone better. All through high school-actually no- all through childhood, my mother had put her homophobic preachings onto me, trying to change me once she saw the signs. She told me how it was unmasculine and weak, she said that I couldn’t be a leader or taken seriously if I was gay. Especially once I met Bert at the start of middle school, we began hanging out a lot and she knew immediately that something was going on, even if Bert and I hadn’t even admitted it to each other. Now, I may have been partial to what my mom said about me back then. She told me that I couldn’t hang out with Bert anymore, making up a stupid reason that he was a bad influence or something. I shamefully agreed to it, I told Bert that I couldn’t talk to him. It was terrible, he never deserved that. I was miserable for weeks, I told myself that I was doing the right thing, keeping my mom happy, staying strong. I was stupid.   
My father, who doesn’t share that same ideals as my mom, told me after weeks of pathetic self loathing that I needed to go back to Berthold. He said that I can’t pretend to be something I’m not. He taught me to be who I am and to not let anyone stop me, no matter who they are.  
It was the only push I needed to get me back to Bert, and at that point I didn’t care who knew that I was gay. I was happy and I wasn’t going to let my mother take that away from me.  
Through the rest of high school my mother showered me with insults and disappointment guilt trips to try and get me away from Bert again. I just did my best to ignore her and stay close to my dad and Bert.   
I did pretty good until graduation. She didn’t even come. I had to lie to the rest of my friends and family that she was sick or stuck at work. I had to say that to my beautiful boyfriend, who knew the truth and felt like he was to blame.   
Once I got home, I let loose.   
I screamed at her for all the pain she’d caused Bert and I. I called her a coward for not accepting me for who I was. I told her I hated her, and never wanted to see her again.   
That was the last time I saw her.   
And now here she is, standing in the doorway of Bert and I’s dorm room, in all her scowling glory. What the hell is she doing here?   
I have the idea in my right mind to slam the door in her face, believe me, I would be happy to do it, but I can’t break the glare I have on her cold blue eyes, she reciprocates.   
After moments of a cold staredown, I hear Bert stumble out of our room and come up behind me, naturally putting a hand to my waist, “Hey, who is-”  
My mother shoots Bert the deadliest of glares that she has only ever used on me. I feel Bert instinctively jerk his hand back, it breaks my heart and I decide to end the silence.   
“What do you want?” I grunt, motivated by my protective instincts for Bert.   
My mother sighs through her nose and holds her lips in a tight pout, as always. She decides that looking at the ground is better than looking at either one of us, suits me.   
She clears her throat and ficks her cold eyes back up to me, “Please get dressed, I’m taking you to lunch.” Her tone is completely uninviting and feels more forced than anything, I squint at her, not sure if I want to do something she telling me to do quite yet. She notices my hesitation, “It’s about your father.”   
Something in my stomach drops, but I don’t show it. I use the anxiety to straighten out and look even more confident, I nod once and step aside to let her in. I know she won’t dare to come in any farther than the entrance, thank god. I need a moment with Bert before I’m alone with my mother.   
We instinctively reach for eachothers fingers as we silently agree for a secret meeting in our room. Bert closes the door behind him, he’s already looking at me like a wounded puppy. He’s the only one I’ll let look at me like that.   
“Do you want me to come with you?” he asks in a hushed voice. I know he really doesn’t want to, my mom is probably one of the only people he may actually hate in the world. She tore us apart and made me feel ashamed for who I was, Bert can’t forgive her for that just as much as I can’t. Man, I love this kid.   
I smile a little and resort to wrapping my arms around his torso, he naturally goes to curl around my shoulders, I rest my face comfortably in the crook of his neck, taking in his scent. “I won’t make you go, you don’t deserve that,” I mumble into his skin.   
“I’ll go wherever you need me,” he sighs pulling me closer. My heart swells a little more at his comment.   
I pull back and smile at him, he knows my smile is forced, and winces a little at it. “Stay here and get ready to watch the shit out of The Princess Bride.” He laughs mirthlessly through his nose and I pull away to put on a shirt and to change my pants. “Oh, and what I mean by ‘watching The Princess Bride’ I mean that I’m totally gonna fuck you.”  
Bert rolls his eyes and smiles a little, nervously eyeing the door where he knows that my mother is lurking only feet away. I stand and shuffle on some shoes as I go to the door. He looks at me with that terribly concerned look on his face that I can’t change. I grab him by the back of the neck and bring him only and inch from my face. “Because I am coming back Bert, I won’t let what happened last time happen again.”   
He nods and I pull him in for a long needy kiss that I know he’ll be thinking about even after I’m gone. And with that, I pull away and leave quickly before he can say anything.   
My mother is still standing at the door, awkwardly out of place, her gaze transfixed on something that’s not there. I wonder if she heard me and Bert. I kind of hope she did.   
We walk in silence. I trail behind her like a baby elephant through the crowds of college kids. I hope no one I know sees me, this is the low kind of moment I don’t want ruining my reputation. The sooner we can get off campus, the better.   
Luckily my mother is not one for fast food, so she takes us to this nicer English place outside of campus that I’m minorly underdressed for. We manage to be seated, get our drinks, and order before either one of us says a word. Mom is the first to speak up.  
“So you two are still together,” she says. It’s a statement, not a question.   
I narrow a glare at her, giving a warning if she decides to say anything about Bert and I’s relationship. I wouldn’t put it past her to still be hung up on it. “Couldn’t be happier,” I shrug, “Well, I would if he was here right now, but, you kind of ruined that a long time ago.” There. Low blow for low blow. Honestly I could probably tone it down and not get so dramatic so quickly, but logic kind of goes out the window when it’s my mother.  
She returns the same glare, good to know we’re on the same page.   
“So what’s with Dad?” I ask sipping at my water. I feel kind of bad for not keeping in touch with him, it’s just not really how he is. I imagined seeing him for Thanksgiving, but I’ll probably got over to Bert’s.   
Mom straightens out and clasps her hands together in front of her, looking at me unfearing, “Reiner,” she says, “Your father and I are getting a divorce.”   
I don’t feel anything at first. Frankly I’m not surprised. I wouldn’t want to be stuck with my mother forever either. Then I think, why is my mom telling me this anyways?   
“Where’s Dad?” I ask as pit of anxiety rises to my chest.   
“I know you’d rather talk to your father about this than me, but he’s already left. He’s gone to Seattle to be with his brother,” she says keeping her tone emotionless and detached.   
Something pulls at my gut and I feel a rush of emotions; anger, confusion, fear, loneliness, abandonment, betrayal. I thought my father would always be there for me, he was there when I needed him the most, but now he’s just packed up and left like it won't affect anyone? He didn’t even call. And now he’s left me with her to tell me that he’s gone and I’m alone again.   
“Why?” I shakily sigh.   
“These things happen, it’s been a long time coming,” she shrugs in her indifference.   
“Bullshit.”  
“Reiner-”  
“No, he wouldn’t have just left without any message or anything. That’s not like him,” I say mostly for myself, trying to rationalize and get it through my head properly.   
“I’m sorry Reiner, but it’s the truth. There’s nothing more to say about it,” she says putting up her last line of defense.   
We’re silent as our food is brought to us, I’m still trying to manage the thought that my father would just leave without any message or even a fucking phone call. Mom goes right to eating her soup like she’s entirely indifferent about the topic. I can’t imagine my parents actually loving each other at one point in their lives. I mean, I have only ever loved Berthold in that way and I can’t imagine talking about him in the way my mother can about my father. I can’t even stomach the thought of Bert and I separating.   
“I was actually,” my mother starts, patting her mouth with a napkin, “hoping to hear about how school is going, and Berthold.”  
I look at her like a kid who’s just said ‘fuck’. “Don’t start that, don’t act like you care.”   
“Reiner, how am I-”  
“No, there’s no going back from what you did. Even if I can forgive you there’s no way Bert will, and he’s the kindest person I know,” I stand and leave my plate of untouched food, “I’m going to go, thank you for lunch but I’ve had enough.”  
She stands and grabs my wrist, her small hold can’t even get around my whole arm, “I’m trying to fix things Reiner, I can’t undo what I did, but I can try and make up for it, you have to give me a chance.” Her eyes are pleading and her grasp desperate, nothing like I’ve ever seen before.  
“You’ve had plenty of chances, I don’t need you anymore,” I rip my wrist back from her and stomp out of the restaurant. It reminds me that I need to take Bert someplace nice once in awhile.   
I practically race myself back to the dorm, knowing that Bert is waiting for me. I bolt up the stairs and down the hall, bursting into the dorm and making a beeline for our room. I yank open the door- there’s no one here. It’s empty. Bert’s gone.   
I don’t know why I start crying, but I do, letting my emotions rip from me in a sick ball of tears and snot. I cry for my father, my mother, Bert, me, I don’t know, anything I can think of.   
As I sit in a puddle of my own tears and patheticness, I feel long slim arms wrap around me, little whispers and cute nothings echoing behind me.   
I turn in his hold, and pull at the front of his shirt, “I thought you left me too,” I choke in between hiccupped breaths.   
“No nono, I just needed to pee,” Bert says running his thumbs across my cheeks wiping at the fat tears, “I’ll always be here.”   
I choke out a laugh as more tears fall from my eyes as I collapse wholly into Berthold, trusting him with every part of me. He rocks me and rubs my back, peppering light little kisses into my hair. I don’t need anyone besides him. I don’t need my parents when I have all the love of this one man. If I’m with Bert, things can’t really be that bad, can they?


	16. A Different Kind of Fear (Annie POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Annie hated a lot of things and any sort of party was definitely in her top ten list.   
It was the weekend before Halloween and students decided another stupid party was to be held in the woods that sat behind the girls’ dormitory. They somehow started a bonfire in the middle of a great space among the maple trees and a potluck was announced. It was also a rule that each student must wear a costume to the pre-Halloween party. By looking around, Annie concluded that many students did not have the money or time to prepare or purchase a decent-looking costume so many had thrown something together at the last minute, their poorly makeshift costumes coming from the depths of their closets. She saw several dressed up as something simple and straight to the point; a kid with long hair had taped empty cereal boxes to his shirt with plastic knives stuck in their cardboard frame, marking him as a “serial killer”, and another wore a hockey mask and clothes that were much too big on him--she knew he was some crazy killer from a 80s horror movie but couldn’t remember which one.   
Reiner wanted him, Berthold, and Annie to go as rock, paper, and scissors, which was why Reiner had taped a sheet of notebook paper to her chest before dragging her out of her dorm (she later crumpled it up and threw it into the fire once Reiner and Berthold were drunk enough to not notice). Her two companions, however, took the time to make large cardboard cut-outs for themselves, Reiner as a rock and Berthold as a pair of scissors. She thought they looked extremely abnormal walking around with their bulky creations wrapped around their torsos but they seemed to enjoy it nevertheless.   
“Hey, Annie.”   
Annie felt Berthold take a seat beside her in a nearby fold-up chair, his narrow shadow falling over her. She could also smell his whiskey-drenched breath pass under her nostrils, making them crinkle in annoyance. She really did hate the smell of alcohol.   
Her eyes left the fire before them and landed on a very drunk Berthold. He always giggled often and swayed from side to side whenever he drank too much which wasn’t often. He gave her an uneven smile. “How are you liking the party?”   
“As much as I can, Berthold.” She aimed her gaze back to the glowing fire, flames licking the star-infested sky.   
“Good, good.” She heard him swallow down the rest of his drink and drop the bottle at his feet, also staring into the fire.   
Silence overcame them both and Annie glanced to the side, to where she spotted them earlier.   
Mikasa Ackerman, her roommate, stood with Eren Jaeger and Armin Arlert over by a snack table. She wore all black (excluding that red scarf of hers of course) and carried a bulky mask on her hip. She remembered back in their dorm the Asian girl saying that Eren wanted her to wear a Darth Vader helmet to the party while he and Armin went as Luke Skywalker and Han Solo from the Star Wars franchise. Annie nodded her head like she knew what she was talking about but she had to admit: she’d never seen the movies and didn’t remember who was who. Mikasa didn’t seem very happy about this decision but she still wore it (she only put it on when Eren was looking at her and took it off whenever he wasn’t and now Annie assumed that Eren was in the same boat as Berthold so Mikasa was in the safe of not wearing that obnoxious helmet).   
Speaking of which Eren, sporting a leather jacket (probably Mikasa’s) and combat boots, had a drink in his hand and was talking loudly to his two friends, who were only standing about three feet from him. Armin had on a baggy, flesh-colored T-shirt and wore a black belt around his waist, a blue plastic lightsaber attached to his hipbone. He had a hand on Eren’s shoulder, most likely supporting him from toppling over with drunkenness.   
Annie frowned at herself and narrowed her eyes on the blonde boy. Why was she staring at him in particular? She found herself frequently glancing over at him as she sat in front of the bonfire, plenty of space away from him. He hadn’t noticed her yet but she still kept on eye on him, as if waiting for something to happen. This situation was usually the other way around so, why were the positions switched this time?   
“Ya know,” she heard Berthold speak up again. She turned to look at him, secretly hoping he didn’t see her gawking at Armin Arlert, the college’s profound nerd.   
“What?”   
Berthold giggled to himself and then looked at her with his famous puppy-dog eyes. “Did you know I used to have a huge crush on you in middle school?”   
Annie blinked. She didn’t see that one coming.   
Instead of letting her respond, he carried on with a slurred speech and sluggish movements. “Yeah, I thought you were super cute and stuff. Reiner doesn’t even know this so…” He leaned toward her and put a finger to his lips. “So don’t tell him. He’ll freak out.” He giggled and continued. “Remember when we were all in history class together over in Marley and were paired to do that World War II project?”   
Annie nodded, expressionless.   
“Well, I thought you were super cute and stuff.” He hiccuped, a red blush now visible on his sloped nose. “But you were always so quiet and mysterious. You used to walk home alone and I would stare after you until you were out of sight. One day Reiner caught me staring and said we should follow you, find out where you were going.” He rubbed his jaw. “I don’t know how he didn’t figure it out, that I liked you in that way. It’s kinda weird.”   
Annie lowered her eyes. She did remember those two follow her that one day. Annie almost never went home after school but instead walked to this one empty alleyway to practice her kicks and punches. She’d hit the brick wall until her knuckles were bruised and ached and then finally go home but she liked to stay away as much as she could.   
Thirteen-year-old Berthold and Reiner one day found out her hiding-spot, startling her when they did. She gave Reiner a few good kicks and threatened Berthold she’d do the same if they didn’t leave. Reiner, being his egotistic self, laughed at her when she said this, despite the pain he must’ve felt in his face. He told her that she needed to work on her kicking, claiming that his nose wasn’t broken and he didn’t have a split lip or black eye so therefore she was doing it wrong. He offered to teach and practice with her every day after school and shy Berthold said he’d do the same (though he mostly watched Reiner and Annie have at it through the years the trio continued to do that). And if she said no, Reiner said he would tell the whole school that this was where she ran off to and what she did there, practically giving her no choice but to say yes.   
That threat sent a different kind of fear down Annie’s spine when he said that. No one could know about this because if they did, somehow and someway, her father would hear about it. And that was the last thing she wanted.   
After all Reiner and Berthold didn’t know why she punched the walls until several years later, shortly before senior year of high school began.   
Now Reiner and Annie were masters at martial arts as was Berthold (he knew the names of the attacks and how one goes about protecting themselves even though he never actually practiced it) and the trio were still close friends. Although Annie never admitted it out loud, she was sure that the two boys knew that they were her only friends she ever had in life and actually appreciated following her down to that empty alleyway all those years ago.   
Now Berthold shrugged beside her. “But then we reached high school and I found out I was gay.” He looked back at her, face oddly serious. “Even though I don’t have a crush on you anymore, I still think you’re super cute.”   
Annie raised an eyebrow in question. Ever since she entered college, two boys had told her that she was either “pretty” or “cute” and it was strange either way. “Uh, thanks?”   
Berthold smiled warmly. “You’re welcome.”   
Just as those words were uttered, Annie felt the looming presence of Reiner stand over them, just as drunk and red faced as Berthold.   
“What did you say?” he asked in a slurred but dark voice.   
Berthold looked up and smiled at his boyfriend. “Oh, hi, Reiner. What--”   
“You think Annie is cute? Does that mean you like her, Bert?”   
Annie rolled her eyes and waited for the fight to begin.   
“No, no. I used to like her back in middle school. Remember when--” Berthold cut himself off and cringed at his own foolishness. “Ah, man. I wasn’t suppose to tell you that.”   
Reiner flinched back like he was just slapped across the face. “But Bert! I thought you were gay!”   
“I am, I am! But--”   
Reiner stabbed a finger in Annie’s direction. “I’mma pound you for tryin’ to take ma man.” He went to grab her arm but Annie was much quicker than him and all those years of fighting in an empty alleyway finally came back to her senses.   
She gripped his meaty hand and twisted it quickly and firmly, pulling it down to the ground. Reiner followed his hand and banged against the soft earth. She held his hand in what would be a painful position and watched him squirm underneath her for a moment.   
“Okay, okay!” he grunted out. “You win, you win! Lemme go.”   
Annie did as he asked and stood up from her chair. Berthold sighed lowly and patted Reiner’s forehead, as if he expected this. Reiner stayed in his place on the ground, clutching his own hand and whimpered silently to himself. Annie adjusted her oversized hoodie and walked around the edge of the fire and toward the girls’ dormitory, suddenly sorrowful as memories of long ago flooded her mind.


	17. Too Spooky For Me (Sasha POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

The leaves on the shrubs whipped against each other as Sasha and Connie’s hands leaned down on the overgrown bushes. Slender branches cracked underneath their feet and their heads poked out from the tall maple trees that surrounded the Halloween party, peering into the field. They observed the party-goers for a moment, finding their friends all dressed up and other students dancing around the bonfire or drinking from glass bottles.   
Sasha and Connie were also wearing their costumes which they had ordered off the internet and luckily had just arrived that morning. Sasha received a uniform from the movie Jurassic Park, complete with a cap with the park’s logo on it. Connie, naturally, decided to go with a giant inflatable dinosaur. Sasha laughed so hard she almost cried when she helped the small boy get into the abnormally large inflatable--his head barely poked through the screened hole in the T-Rex’s mouth and you could barely see the worn-out sneakers and his tan hands peeking through the dinosaur’s feet and claws.   
Which would help make their next plan a great success.   
Sasha pulled down on her cap and looked at Connie--or the giant dinosaur, rather. “You ready for this, Con-man?”   
The T-Rex shifted toward her, the nylon rubbing against each other as he lifted an arm and stuck his tiny thumb in the air in agreement.   
“Alright.” Sasha grinned wildly at the party. “Let’s do this.”   
She tiptoed forward, hiding herself behind the thick trees as she glided forward in near silence. She was honestly a little surprised that no one noticed the obnoxious noises Connie made as he struggled to keep quiet and keep up with Sasha but she wouldn’t question it now. Her big brown eyes flicked back to her friend and she pointed at Armin, Eren, and Mikasa standing near the snack table, who were the closest to the darkened woods around them.   
Connie nodded, making the jaw of the dinosaur bob up and down slightly.   
The two troublemakers paused for a moment, gathering up their inner scare, before jumping out from the maple trees and screaming bloody-murder. Sasha couldn’t keep the smile off her face as she turned her hands into claws and lowered her torso downwards. Connie went full-out: he roared loudly from inside his costume and shook his whole body, the inflatable bouncing against itself rapidly like it was having a seizure.   
The two boys, Eren and Armin, automatically jumped back in fear. The blonde boy squeaked out a high-pitched yelp (much similar to the sound a dog would make if you stepped on its tail) and the brunette sent his cup flying into the air, his body knocking against a nearby tree with a heavy bang! Mikasa, however, simply turned her head toward them (which now sported a giant Darth Vader mask) and stared at the two perpetrators.   
Sasha laughed out loud at their reactions, even Mikasa’s expected one, and pointed at them. “Man, we got you good!”   
Connie snickered as well. “That was so much better than I thought it was gonna be.”   
Armin, clutching his chest like he was recovering from a heart attack, peered at the T-Rex standing before them. “Connie, is that you?”   
“Who else?” He posed heroically with his hands on his hips and his chest puffing out--as much as it could anyway.   
“That wasn’t very nice, Sasha,” Mikasa muttered, helping Eren get back on his feet. “Someone could’ve gotten hurt.”   
“Oh, you mean their feelings? We’re just scaring people, not setting off fireworks.” Sasha wasn’t sorry but she was frightened by Mikasa’s dark glare.   
Once Eren realized what was going on, he smiled and laughed. “Whoa, you guys look awesome! You’re right, you could get some pretty great scares with that thing on.”   
“That’s what I said,” Connie told him.   
“Hey, I think I saw Ymir and Historia over by the fire, if you wanna get them.” He poked his thumb behind his shoulder.   
Sasha could feel the excitement radiating from the T-Rex next to her. “Ah, sweet. We’re getting them next. C’mon, Sash.”   
Before anyone could say another word, the duo sped off, walking as quietly as possible.   
They spotted the couple close by the bonfire with two other men: Jean and Marco. Historia dressed up as Rapunzel, letting her long blonde hair flow down her back, and Ymir went as the fictional princess’s love, Flynn Rider. They saw Marco wearing what looked like a bunch of dull colored towels wrapped around his body lazily like a mummy’s, only he wasn’t one and neither Sasha or Connie knew what he was. Jean wore ripped up shirts and jeans and carried a baseball bat at his side while dark colors outlined his face, including purples under his eyes and red liquid running down the side of his face; he looked like he just fought through a horde of zombies.   
Sasha and Connie went on as they did before: tiptoe in the shadows, wait for their scare tactics, and then unleash it in wild movements and loud screams.   
Historia yelled back in surprise and then jumped behind her tall girlfriend in terror. Ymir jolted a bit but then frowned at the two, her arm draped around Historia’s shoulders protectively and affectionately. Marco also jumped back and let out a short shriek as one wine-colored towel fell from his head. Jean let out a giant “FUCK!” and let his baseball bat fling behind him and into the woods.   
As Sasha and Connie laughed, the others groaned in annoyance or relief. Marco laughed breathlessly, like he didn’t know what to do, and said, “Boy, you guys scared me” just as Ymir growled “Oh, go fuck yourselves.”   
“What?” Connie jiggled his inflatable self. “You don’t like my awesome costume?”   
“Connie?” Historia peeked out from behind Ymir.   
Jean narrowed his small eyes at Sasha and Connie. “What the fuck is wrong with you two?”  
“Aw, c’mon, Jeanie.” Sasha smiled an innocent smile. “It’s just a little prank.”   
“Why don’t you peanuts go fuck something else up somewhere else?” Ymir asked in a droning tone, like she found the whole thing predictable and boring.   
“All good questions, but the real one is what the hell is Marco?” Connie gestured one of his short dinosaur arms toward the Bodt boy.   
“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Sasha asked, confused as well.   
“Oh, it’s, I’m--” Marco sighed and picked up the towel that laid on the ground. “I’m Marco Polo.”   
“Marco Polo?” Connie snorted back a laugh. “As in the explorer?”   
Marco flushed red. “Mina told me I should go like this. To be honest, she wanted me to do this for a long time.”   
“Shoulda kept pushing it back, bro. You look like a poorly dressed priest.”   
Sasha snorted and Jean growled. “Oh, shut up, you two!” But Jean’s hot anger only made Sasha and Connie laugh harder.   
“Seriously, go shit on Reiner and Berthold.” Ymir dragged her finger through the air and pointed at two silhouettes that loomed over the rest of the crowd. “They can stand you more than I can.”   
“With pleasure, Eugene Fitzherbert.” Connie bowed and Sasha curtseyed and they ran off once more.   
The giant pair of scissors was half-carrying, half-dragging the giant rock through the crowd and toward campus again, probably heading to the boys’ dormitory. Sasha and Connie were quick to advance on them and, figuring they were both pretty drunk, didn’t bother to do it quietly. Neither noticed the invaders until they popped up in front of them and hollered in their faces.   
But their victory didn’t last very long. Berthold flinched back, temporarily letting go of Reiner. Reiner, drunk out of his mind, widened his eyes and then quickly threw a tight fist at the dinosaur’s mouth, at Connie’s face.   
Connie’s screaming stopped abruptly as he fell back to the ground. Sasha gasped suddenly and crouched beside him. “Oh my God, Connie, are you okay?”   
Behind her, Berthold was barely hanging on to a nearby tree branch, trying to keep himself standing, and Reiner, without Berthold’s shaky assistance, was also on the ground, groaning under his breath.   
Connie didn’t move but he also couldn’t stop laughing at what just happened. “Sasha, did you see that? Ha, ha! That was amazing! Totally worth it!” He continued to laugh, roll around, and bang his fist on the ground in triumph. Sasha, at first, didn’t know what to do but eventually she smiled and threw herself across Connie’s chest, laughing along with him.   
Man, she really did love that boy.


	18. Red String of Fate (Mikasa POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

“Eren, that’s your third drink. You should stop; you could get sick.”   
“I’m fine, Mikasa. I feel fine.”   
“Eren--”   
“I said I’m fine. Thanks but no thanks.”   
Mikasa sighed as she helplessly watched Eren take another gulp of his beer. She, Eren, and Armin were at another gathering at Ymir and Historia’s condo, celebrating the end of their first semester at Trost University. It wasn’t like first one they threw, back in late August when school was starting. Only the small group of friends were present there and plenty of alcoholic drinks were available. It was nearing 8 PM so it was pretty dark outside and the energy in each party-goer was a little higher than usual.   
The girl with the red scarf turned in her seat at the kitchen bar, searching for Armin, making sure he was okay. She spotted him talking with Mina Carolina and Annie Leonhart, a pleasant smile on his face. Mina was speaking rapidly with big hand gestures, clearly excited about whatever they were talking about, while Annie stood there with her arms crossed, occasionally adding in a comment here and there.   
She watched Armin agree with whatever Annie said and when she looked away, observed him stare at her longer than necessary. She narrowed her eyes. She knew her friend had certain feelings for her monotone roommate (though he hadn’t spoke about it much to her) and, needless to say, she wasn’t a big fan of his taste in women. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Annie, she just didn’t want Armin hanging around her. She didn’t really respond to Armin’s friendly smile and kind gestures and there were no special talents that revolved around her; all she really knew about the blonde was her major in criminology and her friendship with Reiner and Berthold, but other than that she was a complete mystery. Mikasa truly thought that Armin deserved better than Annie Leonhart.   
She then noticed Sasha and Connie sitting with Reiner and Berthold in the living room across from each other, Connie and Reiner’s hands linked together in an arm wrestle. When Sasha said, “One, two, three, go!” Reiner automatically slammed the back of Connie’s hand on the coffee table and the short boy cried out in temporary pain.   
Historia and Ymir were holding hands as the blonde girl stopped with each guest to make sure everything was okay, the freckled girl either rolling her eyes in boredom or trying to plant as many kisses as she could on Historia’s head. She would try to duck out of Ymir’s way and drag her over to another place to stand and talk with their friends.   
And then she saw Jean Kirtstein and Marco Bodt head in their direction.   
Mikasa tried not to groan under her breath when she saw her childhood acquaintance. It was clear that both her and Jean hadn’t forgotten what happened in middle school and how much Eren had gotten over it. For the most part, Jean did try to stay away as much as he could from the two of them, although she couldn’t help him being roommates with Armin, which did irritate her a little. She rationalized that he was probably coming over for a drink, but she couldn’t help but to feel a little uncomfortable as he came closer.   
“Jean, you just finished your second drink of whiskey,” she heard Marco exclaim as he paused by the counter. “Whiskey! Remember what happened the last time?”   
Jean stopped to glare over his shoulder at the freckled boy but then turned to reach for the opened pack of beer. “I’ll be fine, Marco.”   
Marco sighed and then sent a friendly grin in Mikasa’s direction. “Hey, Mikasa. Glad exams are over?”   
She nodded her head in greetings. “Hi, Marco. Yes, I’m glad all that excessive studying is over.” She glanced at Eren. “Eren is as well. He studied a lot with me and Armin.”   
Eren looked up at Marco and smiled crookedly, raising his bottle in the air. “Here’s to seven more years of nursing school.” And then he took another swig.   
Marco laughed. “Ain’t that the truth.”   
Jean popped the cap off his beer, took a large gulp, and then started walking back to the living room when Eren spoke up, catching his attention. “Hey, Jean, you heading back home for winter break?”   
The Kirstein boy paused for a moment, probably deciding whether to respond or not, before glancing over his shoulder with a frown, his natural expression. “Uh, yeah. Gonna see my mom and dad for a while.”   
Eren smiled, perking up a little. “You wanna meet up with us sometime? We’re all going home too.”   
Mikasa clenched her jaw for a quick moment, hoping Eren didn’t notice. That certainly wasn’t a part of the plan. The trio was supposed to go Shiganshina, visit Armin’s grandfather, visit Grisha Jaeger, and then come back to Trost for spring semester--with no one else. Her shoulders relaxed a little when she reminded herself all the other times Eren had offered Jean to join them in some activity but had been rejected every time. It was clear that he was still obeying Mikasa’s orders from long ago.   
Jean shifted his weight onto one foot, uncomfortable. “Uh, I don’t--”   
“C’mon, man.” Eren stuck his bottom lip out like how a child would and Mikasa couldn’t help but to think how cute he looked. “You always say you’re busy or you have other plans, but you seriously can’t spend all your time with your family.” He raised one thick eyebrow. “I know I don’t wanna spend all winter break with my dad. He’ll probably be stuck at the hospital the whole time.”   
It was true, Grisha was always working and often mixed his home life with his work life. Mikasa didn’t realize this when she was first adopted by the Jaegers at age nine; she thought it was normal, that the fathers were the ones that went out and work while the mothers stayed home and cooked and cleaned. It wasn’t until Eren told her that Grisha being out all the time wasn’t normal when she confronted him about it a few months later. She could tell it got on Eren’s nerves sometimes but they both understood. After all he was the top-leading brain surgeon in Shiganshina.   
Marco looked slightly uncomfortable as he glanced from Jean to Eren, feeling Jean’s awkward position in the conversation. Jean sighed heavily and peeked at Eren. “I really can’t. My sister is coming home too--from Germany--and I kinda need to see her.”   
Eren groaned and placed his chin on the counter. “Yeah, your sister,” he said in a low tone like he didn’t believe him. He straightened back up and looked at Jean again. “This isn’t about middle school, is it?”   
Everyone but Eren flinched at his inquiry. Mikasa’s jaw clenched again as her mind raced. What was he doing? Had Eren carried that memory around with him for a long time? How was this conversation going to play out? Jean better not say anything. But more importantly, why was Marco tense?   
“W-What do you mean?” Jean stuttered out, eyes wide and teeth clenched.   
“C’mon, you know. When you had a crush on Mikasa, and then we kissed, and then you had a crush on both of us.”   
Mikasa’s insides twisted at the memory that Eren so casually brought up like it was nothing, like it happened all the time. She remembered Eren telling her about the “exchange” between him and Jean and then how the Kirstein boy left him a love note like how he did with her. She remembered the look he had when he told her this: it was faraway, distant, like he didn’t know what to think. It wasn’t until shortly after she told the lie of Jean hating him for rejecting him did he finally return to his almost child-like features: always smiling, very talkative, those emerald green eyes flickering around at the world surrounding him. That was the look she wanted to see, not the confused or heated glare he had on when this whole stupid scenario was happening.   
Jean visibly flinched back like Eren’s speech actually pushed against him, like a poke in the chest. Marco noticed and cracked an awkward smile. “Uh, Eren, maybe now’s not the best place to mention that.”   
Eren’s eyebrows crinkled at him. “Why? We all know what happened. Remember when we talked about this?”   
Mikasa aimed her trapped gaze on a particular spot on the kitchen counter, hardly moving at all. Talked about this? Did Eren tell Marco everything? That seemed like something Eren would do--he can’t really keep secrets or know when he’s not supposed to mention something--but Marco also seemed hesitant and a bit nervous. In Eren’s eyes, he thought that Jean hated him back in middle school but in Jean’s, he must’ve been confused as to why Eren wouldn’t talk to him for the rest of the school year. If Marco only heard Eren’s version of the story, he would think Jean to be irrational and immature for loathing his friend after being rejected. But if he heard Jean’s side…  
Mikasa’s right eye twitched slightly. Jean was going to be in a world of pain soon enough.   
Marco sighed. “Yes, but still, not everyone else in the room knows. Maybe it would be best to save this conversation for a later time.”   
Eren’s eyes shifted into an annoyed glare. “Well since you get to hang out with Jean all the time, mind telling me what his problem is and why he’s avoiding me like the plague?”   
Marco’s lips tightened into a thin white line, embarrassed. Jean gritted his teeth and suddenly barked at Eren, “This has nothing to do with Marco, so leave him out of this.”   
Mikasa could feel the eyes of almost every other party-goer turn to meet the commotion going on at the bar. Their conversation went silent and their ears perked at what was exchanged. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands as she tightened them into hard fists under the counter. She sensed something very bad was about to happen.   
Eren, on the other hand, either didn’t know or ignored the stares from the other side of the room and countered back at Jean with the same octave Jean had in his tone. “Then why are you so persistent to stay away from me? What did I ever do to you?”   
Mikasa slowly looked up at Jean, her dark eyes narrowed into the sharpest daggers. She tried to get her point across, that if Jean mention anything, he’d be a dead man.   
Jean did notice this because he temporarily glanced down at her and paused before he responded in a quieter tone. “Just forget it,” he told Eren. “This whole thing is just stupid.”   
But Eren wouldn’t take no for an answer. He shot up from his place next to Mikasa and shouted at him, “Yeah, it is stupid! So why don’t you drop the grudge you have against me and stop acting like the world is out to get you?”   
Mikasa saw Jean’s temper rise again as he tilted his eyebrows downward in an angry V shape. “Shut up, Eren!”   
Just then, Mikasa felt another presence join them and when she turned, she realized it was Armin, placing his hands on Eren’s shoulders as if to calm him down. “Eren, stop--”   
“Why do you hate me?” Eren yelled, ignoring his friend behind him.   
“I don’t hate you.”   
“Oh, really? Then why did Mikasa tell me that you hated me so much after I rejected you, that you didn’t want to be friends anymore?”   
Marco, as if he saw what was coming next, hovered a hand over Jean’s chest, almost protectively, and said, “Jean, don’t--”   
Jean’s face grew red with frustration as he shouted back in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Because Mikasa is madly in love with you!”   
At first all she heard was silence and the sound of her own heart pounding in her ears like a war drum. Her body became as still and rigid as she could be and she swore she tasted blood in her mouth from biting down on the inside of her cheek so hard. Jean’s face fell when he realized what he done and Marco looked at Mikasa, expression terrified. Speaking of which, it felt like everyone’s eyes were on her: Armin, Ymir, Historia, Sasha, Mina, Connie. Everyone. Everyone now knew.   
She then felt Eren finally look down at her. “What?” he asked quietly to no one in particular. He didn’t move and neither did she; she couldn’t. Her face never moved for fear that Eren would see the look of complete terror in her eyes. An overwhelming wave of emotions crashed over her and she didn’t know what to think, what to do. This was too much, she couldn’t handle it. As if to prove this, she felt her eyes begin to water and her vision go blurry.   
Jean’s previous fiery glare quickly turned to one of fear and sympathy. “Shit,” he whispered into the heavy atmosphere. “Mikasa, I’m--”   
“Done.” She heard Armin say this word with so much determination and sureness that she almost didn’t realize it was him who said it. “You’re done speaking, Jean. Both of you. You’ve done more than enough.”   
A streak of blond and a glimpse of blue came into Mikasa’s line of sight; Armin looked at her worriedly. “You okay?” he asked in a low voice.   
She couldn’t answer. Her words were stuck in her throat and she was afraid that if she opened her mouth, all that would come out would be choked sobs. So instead she tugged on her scarf, Eren’s scarf, and brought it up to her nose, inhaling the fabric.   
Armin seemed to understand what this meant and looked back up at the boys surrounding her. “Everyone needs to cool down. Stop arguing for once.”   
Marco nodded and turned to Jean, whispering something to him that Mikasa couldn’t hear.   
Armin faced Eren, who was still staring at Mikasa. “Eren, can you please take Mikasa back to her dorm room? I think she needs some time to be alone.” He paused. “And you two need to talk.”   
At first he didn’t say anything, and Mikasa was deathly afraid he’d say no. If he did, she knew she would burst into a million tiny pieces. But then she heard him breathe out, “Yeah, sure.”   
She felt him tug slightly at her stiff arm. “Let’s go, Mikasa.”   
All it really took was Eren’s gentle touch for her to get on her feet. No one said anything as the two walked toward the front door, Eren guiding her out as Armin followed them to close the door behind them. She took deep breaths in attempt to stop herself from crying or doing anything stupid. Her body was still and her hand tight around the red string of fate tied around her neck as she walked side by side with Eren down the sidewalk in the dark that was the night, very similar to how he walked her home for the first time all those years ago.


	19. Fragile Love (Eren POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

The cold of the dark night bites at my nose and ear tips; I keep my hands buried in my stuffed jacket and stay close to Mikasa. Although, the weather isn’t the only thing that’s cold. Something between Mikasa and I feels icy, fragile, almost like frozen glass. It’s as if I get too close to her, one of us will shatter.  
Because Mikasa is madly in love with you.  
My heart’s been stuck in my gut ever since Jean belted those strange words at me. Why though? Why am I feeling anxious? Why was everyone so hushed and scared at the party? Why didn’t Mikasa say anything? Why can’t I say anything?   
This feeling is so familiar, and not in the good way. Fucking middle school, why does it keep coming up? Why can’t we all just forget about it like it never happened and go back to how things were?  
Because Mikasa is madly in love with you.  
I look over at Mikasa walking beside me, she’s kept her face stuffed in that ratty scarf ever since we left. I guess I can’t really blame her, it’s cold. She looks like stone, the only part of her that’s remotely human-like is her feet, being the only thing that’s making her move. She looks distant and almost scared, a mix of emotions I don’t think I’ve ever seen expressed on her face. She stares down at the snowy sidewalk, her movements silent. I don’t think she’s even blinked.   
She hasn’t said anything since the party. Does that mean what Jean said is true? Does Armin know? Does Marco know? Does everyone know besides me? Shouldn’t she try to explain herself or something? Doesn’t she want to talk about this?  
I spare one of my hands from its cozy place in my pocket and reach to gently take Mikasa’s forearm, the space between us still feeling like a fragile sheet of glass. “Mikasa, wait…”   
We come to a stop under a streetlamp casting a weird shade of green onto its surroundings. She doesn’t turn to me, just continuing to look down at the pavement, unblinking.   
“Shouldn’t we, uh, talk about this?” I ask, suddenly feeling the desperate need for her to turn to me. She doesn’t, transfixed by the concrete. “Mikasa?” I duck into her line of sight. “Is it true?”   
My heart thrums in the miniscule seconds as I’m searching for her eyes for her response. She ever so slowly meets my eyes with some wild mix of emotions that I can’t place. At this point, I can only take her answer as a yes.   
I pull away from her, searching the ground for an answer. She’s madly in love with me? Why? Since when? Why hasn’t she said something before? And if Armin and Jean knew, why didn’t they tell me?   
I don’t want to deal with this. It’s ridiculous. This can’t be true. It’s just cant be, right? It’s too fucking cold and Jean’s an asshole and Mikasa is being quiet and I don’t know what I’m supposed to say. But I just can’t forget it either.   
I think back to middle school. About Jean’s letter. His scribblings on a wrinkled piece of paper reflecting a lot of the same words that Mikasa’s note had. I remember the same confusion that I felt, it’s just like now. Except it’s not. Mikasa isn’t Jean. I’ve known Mikasa for most of my life. I’ve laughed and danced and sang and ate and ran and fought with her. We’ve done everything. She’s the person I’m closest with. She knows how I’m feeling without even asking me. She knows why I’m becoming a doctor. She knows how I can get so angry and doesn’t even care. She loves me. But now she love loves me.   
I don’t want to lose her. I mean, I love her too. What do I have to do to tell her that I love her? What do I have to say? Is there anything to say?  
“Mikasa,” I start. My voice is hoarse and my mouth is dry. This new fluttering feeling in my chest is so foreign to me. What does that mean? My hands start to sweat in my pockets, I take them out and the cold wind makes me feel even more jittery.   
There’s a lump in my throat. I can’t say anything else. I try to force words out but they won’t come. My hands ball into fists and I’m so fucking confused on what to do. My hesitation makes me feel that familiar sensation of anger rise to my chest.   
Mikasa hasn’t moved. I wish she would, maybe that’d save me from this terrible frozen thing that’s happening to me. I remember all the times Mikasa has jumped in to help me. I don’t need her help, but it’s nice to know she’s got my back. She’s always had my back, and now she needs me.   
Without thinking, I step forward and raise my hands to hold Mikasa’s cold cheeks in one swift movement. She looks up at me with panic in her eyes. She doesn’t move, she doesn’t blink. I wait for her to protest in any sorts, but she doesn’t. I make the next move.   
The last person I kissed was Jean. But it was lame and had no real feeling to it. I’ve seen movies where the first kiss is supposed to be magical and eye opening. Apparently my kiss with Jean was like that for him, for me not so much.   
But now I’m kissing Mikasa. Her lips are soft and warm against the bitter cold. The thrumming in my chest has me aching for her to kiss me back. I pull away and try to read her expression. She’s still frozen gaping up at me. I keep my hands holding her face. I can’t say anything, I honestly just want to kiss her again, but she looks so scared.  
“Eren,” she whispers. I swallow and try again, closing my eyes and going in softer than before. This time she invites me back.   
She feels so warm and calming. Even though I’m totally freaking out on the inside. I’m kissing Mikasa, and she’s kissing me back. My fingers slide back through her hair so I can pull her closer. Her hand lets go of her scarf and fists in the front of my jacket.   
I turn my head and we brush our cold noses. I forget about about the cold and think about Mikasa, her hair soft between my fingers and her lips tasting like something sweet swirled with the beer I’d drank at the party.  
Mikasa pulls away keeping her hand fisted in my jacket between us. I want to kiss her more, the need to feel her lips on mine extraordinarily hard to come over. But she’s looking at me, her skin lit up by the green flourescent lamp post, my hands holding her head, standing only inches apart.   
Everything has changed.   
What have I done?   
I want to say something but those stupid words still won’t climb out of my mouth. I wait for Mikasa to do something, hoping she decides to kiss me again.   
“We should get back,” she says, her eyes flick from my lips and back to my eyes, “We have to leave in the morning.”   
I swallow and slowly pull my hands from her face. “R-Right,” I choke, “I uh, still haven’t packed yet.”   
Mikasa nods and lets go of my jacket. The space between us feeling hot and sticky and uncomfortable. I step aside and scratch the back of my neck. Mikasa moves her hands to her pockets, avoiding eye contact.   
“I can still take you to your dorm though,” I say hoping she lets me. She nods and we hesitantly continue to walk to her dorm hall.   
What am I supposed to do now? Did she like it? Do I kiss her again?   
I was hoping this would solve things, but it only made me more confused. Now I walk by Mikasa questioning my every move, questioning her every move, questioning my whole existence.   
I need her to tell me that I was right. That it was a good kiss. That it was an amazing kiss. Does she feel that same as me? Does she still love me? Do I love her? What do we do? How do we go on with our lives? What are we now?  
Instead of asking Mikasa any of these questions, we walk in silence. We get all the way to her dorm without another word, it was the longest walk that I’ve ever had to endure. I turn to her at the glass doors of the building, wanting to say something to make sure everything is right before I leave.   
With a few seconds of heavy debating, I clear my throat. “I’ll see you in the morning?” I ask trying to sound optimistic.   
Mikasa nods, looking down at my lips for a brief second then at the ground. I sigh and turn, “Goodnight Mikasa.”  
“Goodnight Eren.”  
The weight of Mikasa and I’s entire lifetime of a relationship rests on my shoulders as I drag myself away from her.   
What have I done?


	20. Aching Hearts (Armin POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

“I fucked it up, Armin. I fucked it up.”   
Armin sat cross-legged on Marco’s made bed and watched Eren pace the small dorm room, his feet moving quickly, his head bowed lowly. Armin huffed, somehow both sympathetic and annoyed. “Everything is fine, Eren. I--”   
“I fucked up everything. Everything we’ve been through, everything we could be. Fuckin’ everything.” Eren tightened his fists and Armin ran a hand through his hair, both boys clearly distressed.   
Shortly after Eren left with Mikasa to walk her to her dorm room, Armin received a text from him at Ymir and Historia’s party. “Come to my dorm” was all it said and Armin understood entirely what he meant. He went up to Marco, who was standing next to Jean and rubbing his back reassuringly, and told him it might be a good idea for them to switch rooms tonight. Eren needed Armin and Jean needed Marco. The freckled boy nodded and went through with Armin’s plan. Before they left, Armin asked Sasha to check in with Mikasa and make sure she was okay. She nodded her head with a very determined look on her round face and he couldn’t help but to smile and thank her sincerely. Since then, he had been receiving texts from Sasha about how his best friend was and what she was doing--she responded almost every five minutes with some sort of new update like “She’s brushing her hair” or “She’s still brushing her hair” or “I offered her a muffin. She accepted and is now eating the muffin. I think she likes muffins. I’ll get her some more muffins in the morning.” Armin grinned at each message and was glad that a girl like Sasha was Mikasa’s friend.   
He just wished he was as patient with Eren as Sasha was with Mikasa.   
“Armin, look.” Eren sighed heavily, still pacing. “I’ve screwed up with a lot of things in my lifetime. You of all people should know that.”   
“I do,” he mumbled under his breath, but Eren didn’t take the hint.   
“But I don’t regret a lot of things. I know I’ve messed things up but I don’t think about them, you know? They don’t keep me up at night. But…” He ran both his hands through his hair and took another shaky breath. “I regret this more than anything. Like, probably more than Mom.”  
That caught Armin’s attention. He knew how much he hated himself for leaving his mother with such cruel and childish words before she died and he knew he blamed himself relentlessly for her unexpected death. If he thought he kissing Mikasa was just as bad as saying “I never want to see you again” to his mother…  
Armin straightened up and spoke in a firm tone: “Eren, I swear you did nothing wrong. Stop beating yourself up. Trust me, I know you didn’t screw anything up.”   
Eren suddenly stopped and glared harshly. “How long have you known?”   
He sighed. “Eren--”   
“You know everything. You always have and always will. So don’t beat around the bush when I ask…” He tightened his jaw and his eyes narrowed to daggers. “How long have you fucking known?”   
Now he was mad. He had finally gotten to the point where he was so upset or confused with his feelings that he was probably going to do or say something stupid. But Armin wasn’t afraid or cautious. He’d seen Eren like this plenty of times before; he knew how to control his inner beast.   
Armin glared back. “Ever since I saw Mikasa look at you when we first met. It’s like every time is the first time with her.”   
“Why didn’t you tell me? After all this time?”   
“It was never my place to talk. This relationship is between you two, not the three of us. I have no say in telling who likes who. That’s imprudent and childish.”   
“Did she tell you? Did she tell you that she--”   
“No. She never said a word, but she knew that I knew. Obviously Jean did as well. Mikasa became jealous when Jean wanted you as more than a friend so she more than likely threatened him to stay away from you so his feelings wouldn’t grow. That’s why Jean’s been anxious around you for all these years.” He added in a lower tone, “He’s probably terrified of her.”   
“But--” Eren growled in utter frustration and spun around. “WHY?” he shouted into the dorm before landing a tight fist against Marco’s wall.   
Armin flinched at the sound and saw the dent in the beige wall Eren just created, his knuckles now powdery and white.   
“Shut up, Eren!” the boys heard Reiner shout down the hallway.   
“You shut up, you piece of--!”   
“Eren. Stop.” Armin’s voice was quick and sharp, silencing the boy almost instantly. They heard Reiner groan loudly and Eren started pacing again, not bothering to dust off his paper white hand.   
Armin waited until Eren finished grumbling under his breath and then slowly came to a stop by his dresser. “Why would she love me?” he asked quietly.   
His voice now dripped with uncertainty like maple syrup. It was slow and droning and just complete devastation. “I don’t get it. Why would she fall for someone like me? She’s always there for me, no matter what I do, and always backs me up when no one else will. It’s like even if I decided to kill myself, I know she would follow me down.” He shook his head. “What is wrong with me?”   
Armin thought before he spoke. “Nothing’s wrong with you. In fact, you’re one of the most determined and passionate people I know. You get everyone motivated--you have that effect on others.”   
Eren snorted and looked away, unsatisfied with the answer.   
He bit on his lip and continued. “Mikasa loves you because you were the first person to show her kindness, offered her a home, gave her love and hope. You know that orphanage she came from wasn’t the best. The people who ran it were cruel and strict and treated the children like slaves. And when your parents asked for her history or what happened to her original parents, they said they had no idea and literally found her on their doorstep when she was two. She came out of thin air and grew up afraid and alone.” He paused. “And then you showed up and changed her life forever.”   
Eren said nothing and neither did Armin. They sat there in silence, the sound heavy on their shoulders. Three whole minutes passed by before Armin sighed and laid down on Marco’s bed, staring at the ceiling.   
“This break I want you to speak with Mikasa about your feelings. I’m not your personal walkie-talkie and won’t pass information between you two. You’ll do that yourselves. Mikasa should’ve told you how she felt a long time ago, but Jean took care of that for her and obviously it didn’t end well.” He looked at Eren and added, “Try to open your eyes and see how much people really care about you, Eren” before rolling over and facing the wall.   
He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from saying “That’s what your mother would’ve wanted” because he knew that would push Eren right off the edge.   
Eren didn’t turn off the lights and go to bed for a full twenty minutes. He just stood there and stared intensely at his dresser, no doubt thinking about everything Armin just said. When he did, however, he didn’t bother changing out of his heavy clothes or brush his teeth or take care of himself in any way. He just switched the lights off and plopped himself on his bed like an exhausted dog that just ran a thousand miles.   
The night was long and uncomfortable.   
Armin continued to feel this way until he stood between Mikasa and Eren at the university’s front parking lot, waiting for Grisha Jaeger to pick them up.   
He didn’t mean to end up like that; at first it was just him and Eren with all their suitcases and bags draped around them like coat racks when Mikasa came up with her rolled-up suitcase and stood on Armin’s opposite side (which he found more than strange). They all greeted her hesitantly and asked her how her night was. She greeted back and answered “Fine” in a very low voice, like it took all her effort just to say it. When she asked them the same question, Eren replied in the same way (perhaps a bit more nervous) and Armin didn’t say anything, already irritated with his friends’ lack of communication. Mikasa squinted her eyes at him and asked him once more and then he replied with a sadisticly sarcastic voice, “Just peachy.”   
She nodded her head shamefully and looked out into the parking lot, not saying another word.   
Instead of focusing on how painful their situation was, Armin scanned the rest of the familiar students’ faces around them. He spotted Sasha and Connie getting into a beat-up red truck with a bearded man with a baseball cap on in the driver’s seat, more than likely Sasha’s uncle. He saw Jean, Marco, and Mina in a somewhat similar position like he and Mikasa and Eren. They stood together on the open lawn with Marco and Mina facing Jean while the Kirstein boy stared at his feet, periodically glancing up at Marco. Armin figured they were saying goodbye to each other and Jean was taking it a lot harder than what most people would. He noticed Ymir and Historia standing not too far away and bidding Sasha and Connie farewell. Historia and Sasha waved wildly at each other while Ymir and Connie simply gave each other the middle finger--not in a threatening manner but very subtle and causal. At last he found Reiner, Berthold, and Annie gathered way off to the right.   
Reiner and Berthold appeared as though they were trying to get Annie to get into their old, black SUV--they glided their hands towards the vehicle and Berthold had a pleading look in his eyes. Annie denied, however, and gestured for them to go on without her. As he stared longer, he noticed how underdressed she seemed to be for going home: black sweatpants, old sneakers, a white T-shirt that was way too big on her. She kinda looked like she just rolled out of bed and stuck her hair into a messy bun on the top of her head. He also took note of how she didn’t carry any bags with her and then with a sinking feeling he realized what was going on.   
He snapped to Mikasa. “Is Annie not going home for winter break?”   
She blinked and then grew a somewhat disinterested look in her eyes. The same old Mikasa appeared in front of him again and he realized that perhaps she was grateful for the change of subject, no matter how “unpleasant” she thought it to be.   
“No. She’s staying here at the university.”   
“Well, is someone else staying with her? Like Mina or…?”   
“No. Mina’s going home with Marco to Jinae and Sasha’s going with Connie to her uncle’s house in Marley which is where Reiner and Berthold are going.”   
He suddenly became worried and frustrated at the same time. “Why didn’t you tell me that? How can we just leave her here alone?”   
Mikasa scrunched her eyebrows in confusion but that disinterested look was still there in her eyes. “I figure it wasn’t important.”   
Armin gritted his teeth at her response and fired back in a low voice, “Well, unlike you and Eren, I’m actually going to do something for the person I care about instead swallowing myself up in self-pity.”   
And then he straightened his messenger bag on his shoulder and stormed away, toward the Marley trio.   
As he marched over, he witnessed Reiner and Berthold embrace Annie before getting into their car; Annie just stood there the whole time and let them hug her, like they done something like that millions of times before. Reiner stuck his head out of the window and asked her once more to come with them. She refused again and instead watched them drive away. Just as she was heading back to the girls dormitory, Armin called out, “Annie, wait!”   
She stopped and turned her body halfway to face him. “Armin,” she stated as he came to a stop in front of her, “what are you doing?”   
He tried to conjure up a convincing smile and asked, “Aren’t you going home for winter break?”   
She shook her head. “No, I’m staying here.”   
“Will someone you know be here with you?”   
She shook her head again.   
That same sinking feeling occurred in his stomach again. “But why? Don’t you want to go home?”   
She stared at him, silent as a mouse until she muttered, “No.”   
Her answer concerned him a little. It was firm but also just the tiniest bit uncertain. It was very strange and he wanted to know more, or least offer her some sort of comfort.   
“Did...something happen or--”   
“There’s nothing you need to concern yourself with,” she interrupted, turning away. “Why don’t you go back home and enjoy your winter break? I’ll be fine.”   
She started heading away but his hand unknowingly shot out and grabbed her right one, bringing her to a halt. “Wait!”   
As she turned around again and stared down at his hand around hers did he feel those familiar butterflies swarm around his chest. Her palm felt cold and small in his and he developed an urge to hold it in both of his hands, to warm her up as best he could. Yes, she was strong and had a reputation for beating up men three times her size, but when he wrapped his hand around hers, it reminded him of just how small and tiny she really was.   
He went to slide his thumb down her fingers while in this heavy trance, but Annie quickly pulled away before he could, snapping him back to reality.   
He felt his face heat up almost instantly when his eyes met her narrowed ones. “I-I’m so sorry,” he replied, unsure of what to do, “I was just--you are--”   
“What do you want, Armin?” she interrupted in a tone he couldn’t quite identify. He expected her to be upset or angered in some way, but it strangely sounded bashful or even shy. Her face didn’t break, however; she was still expressionless.   
The blonde boy took a deep breath and when he felt more relaxed, he said, “May I have your phone number?”   
Her thin eyebrows crinkled together in utter confusion. He guessed he totally threw her off with his request. “What?”   
“May I please have your phone number?” The second time sounded and felt way more confident than the first.   
Annie stared at him fixedly, trying to read him. “Why?”   
He scratched at his forearm. “Because I would like speak with you, even if I can’t see you.”   
“Why would you--?” She looked around them. “Is this some sort of joke?”   
Armin frowned, taking more offense than probably necessary. “No, of course not. Why would you think that?”   
She crossed her arms and gave him a glare, though he noticed it wasn’t as cold as usual. He could tell that she was trying to think of something to say, with a slight shake of her head and lips pulled back in frustration. “You’re...unbelievable.”   
He let a silent moment pass between them, thinking that Annie might’ve needed it to control herself, to calm down. When her shoulders slumped a little and her arms across her chest loosened, he tried again.   
“Please, Annie. I really don’t want you to be alone during winter break. I’ll call you, text you, and skype with you to keep you company.” And then he added in a quieter voice, “If that’s what you want that is.”   
She didn’t respond for a long time. Her pale eyes stared back at him, probably questioning everything that was going on. This was most likely new for her just as it was new for him and he understood, so he didn’t fidget nor did he beg or rush her, but instead let her take her time to decide what she wanted to do.   
In the end, she huffed loudly and fished out her phone from her sweatpants pocket and extended her other arm out to him.   
“Give me your phone,” she ordered, desperation and confusion now completely absent from her features.   
He nodded his head and pulled out his phone from his coat pocket. They switched mobiles and entered their numbers into each other’s contacts. He couldn’t help but to peek up at her while she did so; her angled face was still monotone but he swore he spotted the faintest of smiles upon her lips. They switched back phones and Armin thanked her kindly.   
She brushed her messy hair to the side and mumbled, “Have a nice break.” Her feet spun around and she began to walk off, but not before she stopped momentarily, turned her head to the side, and then added quietly, “Thank you.”  
He smiled brightly, not requiring any further explanation as he strolled back to Eren and Mikasa, feeling a billion times better than before.


	21. Forever (Berthold POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

I’m fine Berthold.  
I frown at the glowing screen of my phone that’s half tucked into my coat pocket in efforts to hide it from Reiner. No matter how many times she says the phrase, it just doesn’t feel right. I mean, she’s alone, on campus, during Christmas. It just seems wrong. I can’t help but offer her a warm place for the holiday or even just to meet up during the long break, but she doesn’t take it.   
I sigh through my nose and try to type out a careful message to Annie with one hand. I manage to make it half way through the phrase “Are you sure?” but Reiner nudges me in the arm and grunts an, “Am I right?”  
I clumsily stuff my phone back into my pocket and choke out, “Heh, yeah yeah, of course.” I have no idea what he said, but if I disagree with him then he’ll want to start an argument about a topic that I wasn’t even listening to.   
Reiner turns and raises an eyebrow at me. I shrug out an awkward smile, one of the ones I know he has a sweet spot for, and he drops it. He sniffs and looks around at the snow covered trees and twinkling lights. He links an arm around mine as he continues with his story.   
“So anyway, she bet that I couldn’t do it. So obviously, we put money down on it. Well, I put five bucks down but she only wanted a bag of potato chips…”  
Reiner continues with the story that I faintly remember him sputtering drunk to me a few months ago. Something about Sasha and Connie doing this bet to see who could drink the most shots in a row or something. Needless to say, I’m pretty sure Reiner doesn’t remember half of it let alone Connie or Sasha.   
As he gabbers about his night, I try to finish out the text to Annie. If I don’t text her back, it’ll be stuck in the back of my head until I do. Only two letters in, Renier pulls at the arm he was wrapped around.   
“Hey! What the fuck?” he barks, yanking me hard enough for me to lose my balance and almost trip. I look up, doubled over in front of him, with the glowing screen illuminating between us.   
“Um...uhhh,” I manage because I can’t say anything else. Besides the fact that Reiner looks like he absolutely wants to kill me right now, it’s always kind of adorable when he gets all angry when I don’t pay attention to him. My lips curl into an innocent smile, “Sorry?”  
He glares at me for a moment then puffs out a breath of anger. I giggle and straighten back out next to him. He digs his elbow into my ribs and looks down at my phone. “It better be fucking important,” he mutters.  
I sigh finishing out the message and sending it. “It’s Annie, she says she doesn’t want to hang out for Christmas or New Years.”   
Reiner snorts and looks down at the snowy trail, “Probably because she has a different little blonde friend she wants to spend her time with,” he mumbles.   
I look at him, “Who do you mean?”  
He looks back up at me and does his best to not be completely disgusting. “You know who I mean,” he says in a low voice with a raise of an eyebrow and a bite at his bottom lip. I roll my eyes at his inability to not act like a teenage girl when it comes to talking about relationships. I remember when he first started getting comfortable with flirting in early high school years, it was a reval that I actually got past it.   
I shake my head and stuff my phone back in my pocket, almost positive that Annie will give up on texting me back. “I doubt she’ll do anything with Armin, she’s acting like a shut in,” I shrug catching onto his hint about Annie and Armin’s brewing...relationship? I honestly don’t know what’s going on between them. I always had a hard time imagining Annie in a relationship, even when I had a crush on her. But Armin has--what’s the word for it, intrigued?--her lately. She doesn’t look at him like Mikasa looks at Eren, or like Jean looks at Marco. She looks at him like a skeptic, or a project, or an abstract painting.   
“I don’t know,” Reiner slurs kicking some snow into the grass, “She seems interested.”   
I smile down at my boots, it might actually be cute if they got together, maybe even a little funny. Annie, the stone hard stoic mystery, and Armin, the cookie that’s soft on the outside but oddly crunchy in the middle. I think they’d make a cute couple. “I think it’d be good for her,” I hum.  
Reiner grunts, “Sure, if you enjoy a puddle of man tears.” I look at him grinning to himself. He looks back, offended, “What? She would totally rip him apart. Annie doesn’t feel love, and that boy is as tough as a glass of milk.”  
I snort as his remark, “I don’t think you’re giving him enough credit.”   
“I mean, don’t get me wrong, he’s a nice guy, but he’s just nice, I don’t think he can handle her.”  
“I think his kindness might be a nice change of pace for her, she doesn’t have a lot of people like him in her life,” I shrug.   
Reiner chuckles and nudges me again, “You romantic.”   
I shrug and the conversation is dropped.   
We stroll through a patch of woods behind a park that’s by my family’s house. The trees are lined with sparkling white lights in celebration for Christmas. Reiner and I have been coming here ever since middle school, it’s even where we had our first kiss, it’s our little place to remember how far we’ve come and how much we enjoy being together. His arm is warm around mine and the only sounds are the crunch of our boots and our soft breathing. It’s always so peaceful and calm against my house that has a record of twelve people staying for the holidays now.   
I remember bringing Reiner here for the first time. I thought he’d hate it. To this day, he puts on this Tough Guy act that usually make people think that he’s an ass, so back in middle school I thought this might’ve been too calm or boring for him, but he loved it. We talked a lot back then, learned a lot about each other, and even taught each other a lot about the other. I’d never had a friend like him. I’d never had a real friend, ever, until then. He helped me with my anxiety and going out of my comfort zone, and I taught him how to accept who he is and live his life for himself.   
Now, we’ve grown up so much since then. We have each other’s backs. We know each other almost better than we know ourselves. Half the time we don’t even have to talk, we can tell each other thousands of things with just a look or a touch. And it’s still just as amazing. I can’t imagine the rest of my life without Reiner in it. He’s a part of who I am now, we’re a team, two halves of a whole.   
And once again, Reiner doesn’t even have to say anything for me to know something’s up. I’ve known he’s kind of been in his head ever since his mom made a surprise visit at campus a few weeks ago. I’ve been worried about him ever since. He never actually told me what’s going on, but I know it’s bothering him. The one thing I do know is that his parents are getting divorced, and I honestly think he would’ve been able to handle it if it would’ve been his father making the surprise visit, not his mom.   
I’ve been waiting to bring it up, mostly because I don’t want to impose, but I also know that Reiner has the tendency to bottle up stuff and explode. I decide to approach the conversation with great caution.   
“So…” I hum, “my mom wants to send your parents some cookies for Christmas, she has this vendetta to get them to like her so I thought we might want to make a visit to your dad or something,” I mumble.   
Reiner is silent for a moment, I almost start to reel back but he clears his throat. “Tell her to keep them,” he says coldly. His voice send warning signs flaring through my nerves. He’s definitely not okay.   
“Oh, well, I-uh, I thought you might want to see him anyway, for Christmas and all,” I mumble again, feeling his body start to go rigid next to me. If I don’t play this right he could completely shut down and do this scary compartmentalizing thing he does with his emotions sometimes when he doesn’t want to deal with them and avoid talking about it for another three weeks.   
“I can’t,” he says, “He’s left. He’s living in Seattle.”   
I almost choke on my tongue, “Se-Seattle? ….Washington?”   
“Yeah, with my uncle.”  
I blink at the news. Washington state is on the other side of the country, why would he go so far? And why hasn’t Reiner said anything?   
I ask the only thing I can manage. “Why?”  
He shrugs, standing straighter and looking forward to the trail beyond us, “Don’t know, don’t care. He can do what he wants,” he spits, “I don’t blame him for wanting to be thousands of miles from my witch of a mother.”   
I frown at his growing defense, I bite my lip. “Yeah, but it’s also thousands of miles away from you.”  
Reiner freezes.   
He stops in his tracks and lets go of my arm, the sudden lack of his warmth sends a chill down my spine, these woods don’t seem so welcoming when he isn’t by my side. His gaze is distant a dazed aimed unfocused at the frozen ground. A shaking and panicky feeling rattles up my rib cage. I didn’t mean to make him feel this way, I just want him to talk it out, and work things through. I only want him to be happy. Regret and guilt wrap it’s familiar claws of anxiety in my gut.   
I shouldn’t have said that. I’m so stupid.   
“Reiner, I’m s-”  
He stops me with his hand. I swallow a thick ball of panic down my throat. He looks up at me, odd shadows from the lights in the trees are cast over his face. His eyes change from distant and dark to wary and tired as looks at me. He closes the space between us and sighs.   
“Don’t you fucking dare,” he growls. I clamp my teeth together and hope that I don’t start sputtering out apologies against his wishes. “I’m fine, Berthold, it’s done with. There’s nothing I can do about it,” he says with finality and confidence. I just nod because I can’t trust myself to not apologize if I open my mouth.   
He takes my hand and we continue down the snowy trail, the silence louder than ever.   
Once I’ve practiced what to say enough times, I speak in an even tone, “Just promise me you won’t forget about him.”  
Reiner squeezes my hand and smiles at me, “I won’t,” he sighs, “And besides, he still owes me ten bucks for cursing at my mom.”  
I raise a wary eyebrow at him, still uninformed on the whole story. He just shrugs and I make a mental note to ask about it later. “It’s whatever, I don’t think my dad could last very long in Seattle anyway. Too many people, not enough sunlight,” he says.  
I nod, “I don’t think he could stay very long from you too.”  
He nods pulling me a little closer. The guilt that was squeezing at my gut has fizzled away, leaving the same throb of unavoidable worry I feel for the people I love. I’ve learned to live with it, I think worry is better than anxiety. I’m sure Reiner would argue against that.   
I spot the tree I’ve been looking for ever since we started the trail. I pull at Reiner’s hand and smile down at him once we are under it.   
He shakes his head at me but smiles, “You’re a dork,” he mumbles, “Too bad it’s fucking adorable.” He says grabbing at the front of my coat and pulling me down to close the few inches that separate us.   
“Too bad you’re adorable,” I whisper on his cool lips.   
He pulls back, offended, “Please, Bert, I am a man. I’m not adorable, I’m a sexy fu-”  
I cut him off with the kiss we were both yearning for. He smiles into it, always stupidly proud whenever I can muster a sense of boldness to him. My hand curls around the back of his neck to slide through his short hair. He tilts his head to take a nip at my lip. I can’t help but to smile.   
It’s our tradition. Every year, we walk through these twinkling woods at dusk, hand in hand, to this very tree. The tree where we had our first kiss.   
It’s this kind of kiss that makes me ache for another and another, until I forget that we’re standing at a tree or that we’re in public or the anxiety I might’ve had. I forget the world around me and am enveloped with everything of Reiner. It’s him. It’s us.   
I pull back and Reiner gives a whine. I look down at him in my haze, “You know we’re forever, right?”  
Reiner raises his eyebrows, “I sure fucking hope you didn’t just come up with that.”   
I smile and dive back in.   
I was just a kid when Reiner and I had our first kiss, the thought of forever wasn’t even an idea in my head yet. But now, here, with him, it’s a whole world more than what I could’ve asked for.


	22. Hallmark Hope (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

College kids are supposed to go home for the holiday’s to get a break, see their families, and forget about school. But as I sit here in my parents empty mansion, drinking my hundredth cup of hot chocolate, alone, the only thing I can think about is school. And more importantly, Marco.  
For the past two weeks I’ve been thinking about the last time I saw him. The night before he left for Jinae, the night I spilled Mikasa’s deepest darkest secret to Eren, the night I missed the biggest opportunity with Marco.  
Of course, we talk almost everyday; well, whenever Marco can spare a minute from his family’s exuberant amount holiday activities. He tells me how him, his mom, and his brother go out everyday and do something Christmassy. I refrain from telling him that my family left yesterday to see my sister in Germany, and that I’ll be spending Christmas day alone. Even Judy, our housekeeper, will be with her family.   
So in the quiet moments between phone calls with Marco, I think about that night and the most frustrating part of it. Even though Marco and I have practically shown each other that we like the other, whether that be holding hands or watching movies into the absurd hours of the night or being there for each other when things are crazy, neither of us have actually admitted it. And in these rom-com’s I’ve been watching, there’s always that moment, the moment when it’s just the right time to do something brave. I got that moment, the night before he had to leave, and I didn’t fucking do anything.   
~  
“I’m an incredibly horrible person who deserves to die at the cold hands of the feared Mikasa Ackerman,” I whine into my palms as I sit on the worn couch in Armin and I’s dorm room.   
“Stop saying that, you’re being over dramatic,” Marco says for the hundredth time. After I completely blew it in front of Eren and Mikasa, the night was ruined. Everyone didn’t really want to party after that. Armin had asked Marco to switch dorms for the night, saying that he wanted to be with Eren and that Marco should probably be with me. At the time I thought it was insulting because Armin doesn’t think I can handle myself, but I now know that I was very wrong. Marco agreed and brought us back to my dorm, making me change and drink some water and trying to keep me from self loathing too much.   
“But it’s so fucking true, it’s so fucking true,” I groan. I hear Marco sigh frustratedly as he takes a seat next to me on the couch. We’ve gotten so much closer lately, not in the friends way but not in the boyfriend's way either, it’s been entirely frustrating and I think I’m the problem. “I should just, like, leave the country. I’ll go live with my sister or something, learn German, drink beer, wear a kilt.”  
“They don’t wear kilts in Germany, Jean,” Marco sighs.  
“Fuck.” Marco giggles a bit and I want to slap him, but his giggle is just so cute. He opens a bag of microwaved popcorn and hands it to me, the warmth from the bag thaws my cold fingers and the smell gives me a bit of my senses back. Who knew popcorn works just as well as coffee?  
“Just wait, okay? Eventually Mikasa and Eren will come to their senses and realize what they had all along,” Marco hums grabbing some popcorn and stuffing his face.   
I look over at him with an eyebrow raised, “What Disney movie do you live in?” I ask deadpan.   
He fakes thinking about it and smiles, “The Little Mermaid, I think.”  
I snort, “Why?”  
“Because being a merman would be badass!” he glows. I roll my eyes but laugh despite his dorkiness. I look at him as he smiles, it makes me weak. I want to tell him how beautiful his smile is, how it makes me feel, but I can never get the words out. Marco’s been more capable with flirting than I have lately. He makes little comments that reminds me that he likes me, but I can never play along. I honestly don’t know how, I fucking suck at this stuff.   
Don’t even get me started on how many times I’ve wanted to kiss him. It’s like a fucking magnet dragging me to his face, I can’t avoid it. But every time we get close, I pull away. I fake cough or notice something past him or start talking about something completely stupid. Every time. And every time, I see Marco’s subtle disappointment behind his brown eyes that he quickly covers with fake interest to what I just said. I fucking hate myself.   
I want to kiss him, I want to be his boyfreind, I just don’t know how. I’m scared I’ll fuck it up.   
“What?” he asks biting his bottom lip a bit with a light to his eyes. My heart thuds and my face starts boiling when he notices me staring at him. I blink away and scramble to stand sputtering something idiotic about thinking about Mikasa.   
“So, uh, yeah maybe-do you want to watch a movie?” I stutter tripping to the pile of movies in the corner on my side of the room. The blush that’s melting my face away burns down my back, god I hate myself. Why can’t I just say what I was thinking?   
“Uh, sure,” Marco mumbles. I can hear his disappointment from across the room, it makes me cringe. I dig through the movies long enough for the blush to go away, pulling out a Marvel superhero movie that we’ve already seen.   
I put the movie in and carefully sit back down next to Marco awkwardly far away. He’s silent as the previews play, and even as the movie begins neither of us move or say anything. Meanwhile, I begin to hate myself even more than I did at the party. Because I do. I fucking hate myself. I’m so stupid. I’m a mess and Marco shouldn’t have to deal with it. He’s having to chip at the walls I’ve put around myself from these exact occasions. But for some stupid reason I rebuild them just as he tears them down. Why do I do that? Why do I fucking do that?  
“Hey Jean?” Marco asks in a small voice on the other side of the couch. I don’t look over at him, if I do I might see the pain on his face that I’m causing him.   
“Hm?” I grunt like an asshole.   
“Did you know that Mina was the only relationship I’ve ever had?” he asks calmly. My heart skips a beat. I have no idea where this is going. Yeah, Marco, I know that Mina was your only girlfriend, so what? What are you trying to say?   
I nod still staring at the screen.   
“Well, I remember how easy it was, with her. She asked me out first, and I thought she was cute and kind so I thought, why not?” he starts, my head spinning with what he could possibly be trying to tell me. “But the longer we were together, the more I realized I wasn’t...feeling it. And I knew it wasn’t her, she was great, but I’d always kind of known that I wasn’t really like the other guys at school and I wasn’t into what they liked,” he continues.   
I’ve managed to tear my eyes from the screen and focus them on Marco’s feet. I want to look at him as he’s telling me this, but I can’t. And I still have no idea why he’s talking like this.  
“So, like, five months into our relationship, Mina had actually come to me and asked me if I was unhappy. I of course told her no, because it wasn’t really that I was unhappy, it was just that I was confused or something. So she then said that she thought I was gay,” he laughs at the end, remembering Mina’s ability to be both generously kind and brutally honest. “She said she noticed the way I looked at guys versus how I looked at her. I couldn’t disagree, I guess. I just felt so bad for letting her be in an empty relationship for so long, she has always said it was worth the trouble just to be my friend.”   
I peek up at him. He’s looking down at his hands in his lap, lost in the memories of how he and Mina had come to be. He’s never told me this, so I don’t know why it seems so important now.   
“But once we got over that, she was like my wing woman, she helped me come out to my family and friends and was on a mission to get me a boyfriend,” he chuckles again, “But it never worked, I knew I had to do it for myself and that’d it happen in due time.”  
I swallow and fidget with my fingers, what do I say? ‘Yeah man sounds good’ or ‘Sure of course you’ll find someone, it’s not like he’s sitting right in front of you too scared to say anything.’  
“But, like I said, it was so easy with Mina. I was never nervous or anxious, I never second guessed myself or spent numerous hours in the night thinking of what she might be thinking about. It just happened,” he says. He takes a deep breath and looks over at me, I freeze when we make eye contact. “But with you, I second guess everything,” he swallows, “I always think I’m doing something wrong or missing signs or that you actually don’t like me.”  
I want to yell at him for it. I want to tell him he’s wrong for thinking I don’t have feelings for him, and that he should never have to be so nervous around me. But then again, I’m constantly measuring my steps and calculating what I say when I talk to him. I think I’m the mess when he’s just as worried as me.   
I go to say anything I’m thinking, but none of it comes out. I’m not at a loss for words, I just can’t get them out. And as I watch Marco wait for me to say something, I notice his eyes sag and his lips droop in disappointment. God Marco, I’m so sorry.   
He turns to look back down at his hands, which are now fidgeting with the fabric of his jeans. He’s embarrassed or nervous or disappointed or all three.   
“I know you already know this, but I do like you Jean, like, a lot,” he sighs, “And I see you trying, and I know what happened with Eren and Mikasa is probably still messing with you, so just know that I’m here when you’re ready.”   
My throat closes. What do I say? I want to say something, anything. Tell him that you like him too. Tell him that you’re sorry for being an impenetrable idiot for the past few weeks. Tell him that you want to take him on a real date. Tell him you want to hold his hand or kiss him. Yeah, just fucking kiss him. He’s right there, looking at you, leaving the door wide open wearing his heart on his sleeve. Do something about it you fucking idiot, do something!   
And, nothing.  
Abso-fucking-lutely, nothing.  
I hate myself.  
Marco gives a sad smile and turns away. It’s heart breaking.   
“Well, uh, it’s getting pretty late, and Mina and I are leaving pretty early tomorrow morning, so I should get some sleep,” he shrugs standing and tossing the cold popcorn away.   
I cough out the cotton mouth I had and scratch the back of my neck. “Uh, yeah yeah, we should get to bed,” I stutter turning the TV off and throwing the remote on the couch.   
We stand in front of each other, only inches away, and I do nothing to close the tiny fucking gap. I can tell he’s waiting, hoping that I’ll do something before we both try to sleep this excruciating conversation off. But I don’t do anything, and I won’t, because I’m an idiot.   
Marco frowns again, “Goodnight Jean,” he says somberly turning to Armin’s side of the room kicking his shoes off.   
I want to cry. He’s so far and I want him to be close. He’s waiting for me to do anything, the only thing I have to do is go for it. There will be no pain or fear of rejection, he’s right there, open arms.   
I sigh and flip off the lights, graciously letting the darkness envelope Marco so I don’t have to look at him in this disappointed sadness anymore. And he won’t have to look at me, both of us causing the other pain.   
“‘Night Marco,” I mumble crawling into bed and letting the self loathing ensue.   
I’m so sorry.   
Just give me some time.   
I think.   
-  
So, yeah.   
Just another reminder that I’m a complete fucktard of an idiot. Every conversation since then has been a painful reminder that I fucked up, that I let my chance go, and that I’m an idiot. Marco’s been a champ, he talks like there’s nothing weird between us and calls me everyday like fucking clockwork. What he doesn’t know is that I sit staring at my phone the rest of the time waiting for a message from him.   
My family, before they left, thought I had a secret girlfriend; because apparently the excuse “it’s my friend” doesn’t suffice for my mother for everytime I get a phone call and I run up to my room for some privacy. I never told my parents that it’s Marco, not because the whole situation is fucking gay, but that it’s complicated and I really don't want to admit to my parents how much of an idiot I am.   
So my family’s left for Germany, I’ve stayed because I knew I wouldn’t have been able to call Marco over there, and lied to my parents that I couldn’t go because I have a “shit ton of homework.” The amount of times Judy and I have played scrabble is ridiculous. I’ve avoided several calls from both Eren and Armin because I certainly do not want to get involved in that right now. I’m getting fat off of Christmas cookies and hot chocolate, and getting ridiculously lonely being so far from Marco. I’ve been sitting on this couch for a straight 24 hours with a sore dick and clouded mind. And I might’ve watched every Christmas Hallmark movie known to man.   
I hate myself.  
I groan to myself as the movie I’ve been watching finishes. It ends perfectly; the girl gets the guy, the guy’s no longer a dick, and they both love Christmas, happily ever after and all that shit. I look down at my empty mug and notification-less phone and decide that I should probably take a hot chocolate and pee break.   
I pop and crack as I stand feeling my muscles scream at me from not using them for a day. I stumble into the kitchen where Judy is stirring together another batch of her addictive hot chocolate mix.  
“I think I may double it if you’re going to be by yourself tomorrow,” she says as she adds cocoa powder to a large metal bowl.   
I shrug as I sit at the kitchen island across from her, “Hm, probably,” I mutter.  
She looks up at me with a raise of her eyebrow, the creases in her forehead deepening, “You drink more hot chocolate than a horse, boy,” she mumbles.   
“Maybe you could just teach me how to make it then,” I say trying to ignore the childhood horse joke that my family can’t seem to let go.   
Judy straightens up over the bowl, standing proud at a whopping 5 ‘3 with her hip protruding out, “You’re actually going to make your own food?” she says letting the disbelief and attitude drip from her voice. I roll my eyes.   
I stand to fetch a gallon of milk from the fridge. I’ve always liked Judy, she’s been with our family ever since I was around four. After three different nannies had quit because I had apparently been a ‘troubled child’ Judy came along and wouldn’t take shit from me or my sister. So my parents donned her our nanny/housekeeper and have been with us ever since. There aren’t any kids for her to take care of anymore, but my parents still travel a lot so she stays to take care of the house and the plants and everything. When she first started she was about fifty, retired, and bored. So fifteen years later she’s still old and now the coolest Grandma I’ve ever had.   
“Whatever, maybe I have some friends that might like it,” I grumble pouring the milk into my mug and putting it into the microwave.   
Judy raises her eyebrow and bites her lip, looking back into the bowl and stirring nonchalantly. “Some friends, huh?”  
I glare at her as I sit back down, “Yes, friends,” I grumble.  
She smiles a bit, “You’ve never made hot chocolate for your friends before,” she says innocently.  
I scratch at the back of my neck, “Because I’ve never had friends before,” I mutter.  
“And does middle school not count or-”  
“No,” I spit, “No middle school.”   
She rolls her eyes and hums a bit, she’s up to something but I can’t really tell what she’s going on about. “So, there’s no one in particular you want to make hot chocolate for?”   
Heart thump.   
Yes.  
“No.”  
“Are you sure?” she asks, “Not even Marco?”  
I look up at her like a deer in headlights. “What...what are you talking about?” I sputter.   
She laughs, “Oh come on Jean, I clean your room for you. You don’t think I’ve seen your drawings? Your intricate and beautifully detailed pictures of this freckled boy you’ve never brought to the house. And what about all the times you wrote his name into the spilled flour when we were baking? And your mysterious phone call everyday that you have to ascend mysteriously to your room for. And at night, another phone call, that always ends with a sad ‘Goodnight Marco.’ Oh, and I’ve been trying not to think about why your saying his name in the middle of the night-”  
“Alright!” I choke before she goes anywhere else with it, “Alright, I get it, you know things.”  
She smiles proudly, “I do, now get to explaining,” she says pointing at me with a wooden spoon.   
I feel my heart flutter in my chest and a rush of heat burn at my cheeks. I really don’t want to talk about it, but knowing Judy she won’t let it go until I’ve fessed up. I stare down at my fingers that pull and twist at the sleeve of my hoodie.   
“He’s a...friend-”  
“Jean Kirstein I swear, don’t you lie to me,” she barks. I almost laugh.   
I don’t even know what to say. I mean, where do I start? She already knows something’s up, so am I just supposed to be like ‘Yup, totally, we’re in a secret relationship and I didn’t want to tell you because we’re actually getting married in the summer, surprise!’ Honestly, I think that has more dignity than, ‘Truth is, he’s this guy that I’m too chicken to ask out even though he’s admitted that he likes me already, and so really, the only thing I have to do is grab his face and kiss him but I’m too scared out of my wits to.’   
Ugh, there’s another pang of guilt and self hatred right to the gut.   
I look shamefully up at Judy hoping she’ll relent. I give her my best puppy pout that usually get me out of doing things with my mom, but it doesn’t work on Judy. I sigh and lean back in the chair.   
“Moral of the story: I’m going to die alone,” I say truthfully.   
She chokes out a laugh, “You’ve always been so dramatic.” My mind flashes to Marco poking fun at how dramatic I can be, and now I know, I’ve got it bad. “What is it then? Does he have a boyfriend or a girlfriend or something? Is he scared of commitment? Does he just not feel ‘that way’?”   
I sigh and run a hand through my hair, “No, he’s not the problem at all...I am.”   
Judy sighs and puts the spoon down, giving me her undivided attention, “Let me hear it.”  
~  
I tell her everything. Starting from the night he had helped my drunk ass home, to the embarrassing day after when he found me in Chem, to Mina and Chick-fil-A, to the fateful conversation the night before break started and everything inbetween. She doesn’t interrupt me, she doesn’t ask questions, she just nods along and takes everything into consideration. She listens, to everything, and I hadn’t known I needed this so badly until I’ve spoken every word I possibly could’ve about Marco and I’s complicated relationship.  
By the end, I’m out of breath and awkwardly sitting in front of Judy as she thinks of what to say next. I fidget with my sweatshirt some more, wanting to explain myself further but knowing that I don’t have anything else to say.   
“You know what I think?” Judy asks finally. I raise my eyebrows at her. “You should go see him,” she shrugs.   
I stare at her for a moment.  
“What do you mean?” I squint.   
“We both know how horrible you are with your words, darling. So show him how you feel through your actions, tell him without saying anything, he’ll understand,” she says softly.   
I look around the kitchen, still confused. “So what am I supposed to do? Drive for six hours and show up at his house without anything to say?”   
“You should probably ask him if you can first but yes,” she says, I stare at her like she’s gone crazy. She levels me with a look, “Jean, trust me, from what you told me, he has the same feelings for you and is being polite enough to wait until you’re ready. And you’re just frustrated with yourself because you don’t know how to tell him that you are ready. So do it without words, I’m sure he knows you well enough to know what you’re trying to say.”  
The moment I start to actually believe that I might be able to do what Judy’s asking of me, is the moment I start to panic. My heart starts to thrum in my chest, my palms clam up, and my head is spinning with the possibilities of what might happen. Could I really do that? Show up on Marco’s doorstep with the hope that he’ll understand that I’m ready, that I want him, that I want us. What about his family? It’s Christmas, it’d be rude of me to impose on his holiday with his family. They don’t want me there. Well, maybe I can wait until after Christmas, see him for a few days, and be back before New Years. That might work.  
Shit.  
Shit shit shit shit shit.  
I can’t do this.  
This is crazy! I’m taking advice from my nanny to ship myself to Jinae for the weekend and hope that everything turns out like a Hallmark movie.   
I can’t.  
I-  
My phone rings.   
My heart skips as I look down at the screen.   
Marco.   
“Just talk to him,” Judy hums across from me. I look up at her, panic ridden across my face, “It’s okay, just talk to him.”  
I swallow and answer the phone, standing and shuffling up to my room with my tail between my legs.   
“He-hey,” I choke trying to shake my nerves off.   
“Woah you okay? You sound weird,” Marco chirps from the speaker. Just the sound of his voice melts away the nerves and replaces it with a warm fuzzy feeling in my chest. I bite my lip to restrain from smiling like an idiot.   
“It’s nothing, just sometimes the wisdom my nanny bestows scares me,” I sigh as I trail up the grand staircase.   
“This is true, I know my nanny is like a prophet of God herself,” he jokes. Marco only recently found out that I had a nanny when I was younger, ever since then he’s been making rich people jokes and talking about his faux nanny.   
“Oh, I’m sure. She’s probably where you get all your Chem homework answers from,” I say unable to keep myself from smiling.   
“Yeah, and she told me that she knows where the holy grail is but she doesn’t actually want it because she’s just humble like that.”  
I laugh to myself as I stride into my room already going to fidget with random things around the room as I talk to Marco. “So what’re you up to then?” I hum.   
Marco sighs, “Talkin’ to you.”  
I smile, my heart swells a bit, “Yeah besides that.”   
“Nothing really, kind of had a bland day actually.”  
“What?! On Christmas Eve the extraordinary Bodt family has only now decided to take a break on festive activities?” I mock distress.  
“Yeah yeah, well usually we’re on a rampage to cook and bake for tomorrow, but my mom said that my aunt is about to have her baby down in Florida, so most everyone decided to go there instead,” he sighs.   
“Why don’t you guys go?” I ask.  
“We, uh, kind of don’t really have the money to. So we’re just gonna have a little Christmas here.” Oh, right. Recently I’ve gotten the hint that Marco’s family isn’t really gifted in the whole money department. I kind of feel bad about it, especially when I complain about having to go on all these trips with my parents or how I hate school even though I don’t have to pay a penny for it. Marco got into Trost on a full ride, and earlier he’d told me that his father died overseas when he was a kid so his mom is trying to support him and his brother. So I really cringe whenever I accidentally bring any of that stuff up.   
“You guys’ll have fun though,” I mumble.   
“Yeah, we will we will,” Marco pauses, “So what’re you guys doin’ for Christmas?”   
I swallow. Should I tell him? That I’ll be alone. That I actually want to be with him for Christmas. That the moment I hang up I’m going to regret not asking him if it’d be okay if I paid a visit.   
Here goes.  
“Well, uh, actually, my family’s going to, uh, be in Germany...with my sister,” I manage out.   
“What? You’re not going?” Marco blurts.   
“No, I didn’t really feel like it. Just kind of wanted to be home for awhile I guess,” I shrug as I turn my desk lamp on and off.   
“Have they left yet? Because I’ll totally go for you.”  
I laugh and shake my head, “Yeah they left yesterday,” I sigh, “But I’ll take you sometime.” My heart skips with that comment knowing it was some shaded form of a flirt.   
“Yeah, I want to go to France too, I want to see the Eiffel Tower and the Louvre,” Marco says like I told him we’re going to Disney World.   
“Tch, France stinks dude.”  
“Shut up, don’t ruin the magic,” he pouts. I roll my eyes despite the fact that he can’t see me. “But seriously, you’re okay with spending Christmas alone? Won’t you be lonely?”  
My throat closes up as I try to ask. Stupid Judy and her stupid ideas. I’m gonna do it, I think being alone for two weeks has finally made me desperate enough.   
“Well, um...I-I kind of wanted to see-to come and see you, maybe, if you’re okay with it-because if you’re not that’s totally fine, I know it’s Christmas and you should be with family and I really don't want to impose so maybe we can hang out a different time, and my parents won’t be back until around New Years so we can wait for a few days if you wa-”  
“Shut up shut up shut up, I asked my mom as you were making excuses and we would love to have you here for Christmas,” Marco practically yells into the phone.   
I freeze for a moment like a rebooting computer. “Are-are you sure? Because I really don’t-”  
“Yes Jean, of course, I think James is going over to his girlfriends for part of the day anyway. Please come, it’ll be awesome,” he sputters out-of-breath for some reason, “And no one should be alone on Christmas, it’s just wrong.”  
I snort out a laugh, “Now you actually sound like a Christmas movie.”  
“What can I say? I’m a romantic,” he says.   
“That I know,” I mumble. “But, uh, yeah, I guess, if it’s okay, I can come out tonight. I’d probably get there around nine or ten if the traffic’s okay-”  
“Yes! Heh, I mean, yeah that’d be great, we can save some dinner for you if you’d like?”  
My chest warms up again and I try to play it off cool, “No no, it’s okay don’t worry about me. I’ll probably munch and drive.”   
“Got it, but I don’t know if my mom will take that as much of an excuse,” he chuckles.   
“Noted,” I laugh.   
We sit there for a moment in silence, both jittering with excitement to finally be able to see eachother again. Yes, it’s been two and a half weeks, but it feels like a lifetime. Especially with how we left things.   
“Well, I guess I should leave you to pack,” Marco says.   
“Oh, uh, yeah that.”  
“I guess I’ll expect you tonight?” He says almost like it’s a question.  
“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I hum, “Wouldn’t miss it for the world.”  
There’s a pause and he comes back, “Pack for a few days, get here asap and I might let you choose the movie we watch tonight.”   
“Roger that.” With that we both hang up, and I have to hold in a back flip because I’m so fucking excited. Not a moment later I get a text with Marco’s address and a ‘drive safe’ message with a yellow heart.   
This is real. We’re doing this.   
I run downstairs to tackle Judy with a hug and a loud and indecipherable explanation of what just happened. She wishes me luck and I sprint back upstairs to pack. I practically just dump whatever’s in my various drawers of clothes into a duffel bag and call it a day. Within ten minutes I’m storming back down stairs with hope in my head and my heart on my sleeve. I can do this.   
“You didn’t shave?!” I hear Judy call from the living room. I back up a few steps to catch her standing there with her hands on her hips.  
“I look fine, he doesn’t even care,” I shrug stuffing on some gloves.   
“You boys now-a-days, with you’re ruggedness an’ such,” she grumbles to herself. “Drive safe, and I expect to meet this boy one day!” she calls to me as I’m walking back towards the front door.   
“Go to my room, he’s everywhere,” I shout back at her. I laugh when I hear her grumble something else to herself. “Thank you Judy! And Merry Christmas!”   
With that I’m on the road for the next six hours thinking up every possibility that could happen as I spend the next few days with Marco and his family. One thing is for sure, this is completely out of my comfort zone, but for some reason I seem to be okay with it. It might be the adrenaline, it might be the Hallmark Hope, but whatever it is, I hope it lasts all the way to Marco’s front door.   
Here goes.  
-  
I’m lost.   
I’ve officially driven a complete hour over what was expected. I think I’ve been in Jinae for a solid hour and half and I can’t find Marco’s house for the life of me. Everything’s either dark or shining with the light of Jesus in Christmas decorations. My phone keeps losing service then reconnecting again, even it doesn’t know where we are. I’ve screamed at my phone then apologized in a loop, though it doesn’t seem to respond to any of my scolding.   
I pull off into what looks like a Ma and Pa’s pizza place and park in front of the dark building. I know I’ve passed this place like four times. Jinae is mostly populated with small family owned shops and a few corporate stuff. Which is a little weird for me, I guess. I mean, I live in Trost which is practically corporate stacked on corporate. I don’t think the city would know what to do with itself if someone decided to start their own business in the center of it all.   
I fold up my man card and swallow my pride to call Marco and admit to him that I’m lost. He answers on the second ring.  
“Jean?”  
“Help,” I whine.   
“What? You okay?” Marco asks concern surfacing on his voice.  
I look out the window to the empty streets and closed shops. “I’m lost,” I sigh.   
Marco giggles, “Seriously? Where are you?”  
“I don’t know, that’s the point,” I grumble.   
Marco laughs again, “Well what’s around you? I’ll come pick you up.”   
I sigh and look up at the pizza place in front of me. “I’m at Grandma Jinae’s Pizza,” I say wincing at the terrible name.   
“Got it, I’ll be there in ten,” Marco says.   
“Sorry,” I mumble resting my head on the window.   
“Don’t be,” he says, “I kinda wanted a moment alone with you anyways.”   
My chest seizes. Oh, fuck. “Oh, y-yeah,” I stutter, “Me too.”   
Another question filled pause passes.   
“Just...hold tight,” he says.  
“I’ll be here.”   
Oh, god. He wants a moment alone. But I want that too. Then why am I freaking out? What could he possibly want to say, or do, that he wants to be alone for? I mean, I know what I want to do, but still.   
The painful ten minutes I wait sitting in my car for Marco are filled with breathing exercises and calming thoughts. Man, I really should’ve taken up meditating like Armin said I should. I try thinking about anything except Marco matter a fact. I think about how Eren and Mikasa might be doing, I imagine their break is probably more painful than mine is...which I caused, yeah no I don’t think I should think about that. How about Reiner and Bert? I’m sure they’re having a nice break together, I know that Reiner was going over to Bert’s because I think he has family problems. I imagine Sasha and Connie are playing video games and eating thousands of calories. And I’m sure Ymir and Historia are-  
A knock on my window startles me out of my thoughts. I look over to a shadowed figure standing outside my door. He smiles and my fears fizzle away. I stumble out of the car with a thousand thoughts running through my head. I don’t know what to say. I don’t know how to feel. But here he is standing in this stupid pizza places parking lot facing the Christmas cold and smiling at me. Christmas lights from the surrounding shops cast colorful patterns on his face and he’s never looked more beautiful.  
“Hey, uh, it’s been a-”  
Before he finishes his sentence I grab his face and launch myself to his lips. We crash into each other, I nearly ram our noses together but he doesn’t pull away. He makes a surprised noise but quickly realizes the situation. We collide in a desperate and wanting fit for the other. We’ve waited so long for this. There’s been so many times where it almost happened just to be forgotten as another painful and dismissive moment in our relationship. But now, now we’re doing it. We’re actually kissing. My heart thuds in my chest, my hands slide to the back of Marco’s head pulling closer even more. He’s moving too. His hands that were in his pockets when I caught him off guard, are now around my waist, and I feel as his fingertips and palms press deeper into my back sending jittering vibrations through my spine.  
God, and his lips. Fascinated and dreamt about for weeks, are the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. In the back of my skull, I’m thinking about the fact that this is my first real kiss. My actual first kiss was with Eren and I do my best not to think about that cringing moment. But Marco doesn’t kiss anything like Eren. Eren was rough and urgent, he used his tongue like a hungry snake, it was mostly disgusting. And I’m going to ignore the fact that Eren’s kiss actually made me start to like him, so whatever.  
But Marco, his kiss isn’t abrasive or overpowering. He matches my pace, although my pace may be a bit desperate, but I think it’s a little appropriate in this situation, and he follows along and lets me take lead. His lips are warm and sweet, he tastes like strawberries, and he feels like the only person I want to be with on Christmas.   
I pull back to take a breath, I’m not as well versed in this stuff as Marco. I mean he did have a girlfriend for like six months. I don’t have the endurance that he probably does. I look up at his pretty brown eyes. Eyes that I haven’t seen in weeks, although it feels like a lifetime. Everything’s changed, I finally fucking kissed him. I have the burning instinct to high five him but I’m pretty sure that’d be the dorkiest thing I’ve ever done so I decide not to.   
We’re still holding onto each other, faces inches apart, bodies flush, and speechless to try and make sense of this feeling.   
For the first time, I don’t think, I just talk,“I’m ready,” I say holding his gaze. “I’m sorry it took so long, but I’m ready now.”   
Marco smiles genuine and beaming, his hands squeeze at my back. I start to smile at the goofy face he’s making but it’s his turn to crash our lips together and be the desperate one. We fall into another fit of bursting emotions and swirling tongues, and I can’t imagine pulling away from him for a second time.   
Unfortunately Marco is stronger than I am.   
“You stole my thunder,” he smiles after separating us. I give him a weird look and he shrugs, “I was going to do that.”   
We break into a fit of laughter, I fall forward and rest my head on his shoulder. I don’t ever want to farther from him that I am now. We stay like this for a while. It might be cold as balls, but being in Marco’s arms is the only place I want to be.   
“We should get back,” Marco says into my hair. I sigh and nudge my face further into his the crook of his neck. “Mom’s expecting us, and she has food ready for you despite your polite rejection.”  
I chuckle a bit. “What did you tell her I was to you?” I ask honestly worried. It might be hell to have to act like good ol’ buddies for the next few days. Now that I’ve got my paws on Marco, I’d really hate to have to take them off.   
He pauses a moment, “I may or may not have been forced to tell her everything.”   
I actually laugh this time, pulling back to look up at him and dropping my hands to hold the both of his. He’s wincing a bit like he’s embarrassed, it’s adorable. “Dude I did the same thing.”   
He smiles, “So we’re, like, for real now?”   
“I’m all in,” I shrug.   
He bites his lip and squeezes my hand, “Good, so am I.”   
-  
Christmas with the Bodt’s was the best Christmas I’d ever had.   
We made Christmas cookies and watched Elf about four times. We took night walks through town to look at all the shops’ pretty decorations lighting up the dark sky. We drank buckets of hot chocolate and wore ugly sweaters. I’ve never felt so spirited with the Christmas thrill like I did with them.   
But above all, the best thing about Christmas was that I shared it with Marco. I got to be with him for every Christmas carol that float through the house, every shining present that was opened that morning, and every kiss in between. I saw how happy he was, how big he smiled, and how his eyes sparked when he was excited. He made Christmas everything to me. And now, I never have to celebrate another Christmas without him.


	23. Finally (Eren POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

For the first time in my life, I actually want to be at school, because anything would be better than having to stay trapped in the house for another damn day.   
Everything is gray outside. The sky is a murky shade of fog, and the ground is blanketed with weeks old snow that’s been sloshed and trafficked into a dirty wet mop. It’s freezing and my eyes water when the wind blows in my face. Everyone seems like the start of the new semester is a death sentence and a quarter of the freshman class hasn’t even returned. But still, this is better than being confined to that suffocating house with those thin walls and the deafening silence of my sis-or friend-or...Mikasa.   
Thankfully, as soon as my father dropped us off on campus, Sasha nearly tackled Mikasa and dragged her away to their dorm. The minute Mikasa left my line of sight, I made a beeline for the dorm complex.   
With luggage and backpack in tow, I slip through students and academic buildings to arrive at Hall Maria: Armin and Jean’s dorm complex.   
Armin doesn’t know that I’m planning on stomping up to his room, but it doesn’t matter. He won’t be there, and I’m not even coming to see him.   
Since the whole damned break started, it’s been Armin trying to tell me to calm down, Mikasa being silent, and me just trying to figure this shit out. It’s been too much. I don’t know who to turn to. If I talk to Armin, he’ll say I’m overreacting or that I shouldn’t be so worried, and if I talk to Mikasa she’ll probably avoid all eye contact as possible. I need to just rant about it; it’s all pent up and I feel like I’m going to explode.   
And who’s the best to be angry with and also owes me a little favor?  
Jean Kirstein.   
I don’t know what I’m gonna say to him, but I just need to talk. Maybe hit something. And believe me, Jean is probably the best person to punch. First of all, he will always deserve a good punch in the face. Second, he always walks into the opportunity for someone to punch him. And third, I won’t feel bad.   
I stand in front of the glass doors of the dorm hall. You need a key card to get in so I awkwardly wait for someone to come through and use the opportunity to let myself in after them. I climb the stairs to Jean and Armin’s floor heaving by the last step with how much my shit weighs.   
Students drag their feet through the halls, mumbling curses as they unlock their dorm room doors for the first time after the break. I don’t think I’ve seen one smile. I can’t really say I blame anyone.   
I shuffle to Jean’s dorm, I honestly don’t even know if he’s here yet. Armin said that he was going to be a little late because he was picking up something for Annie or whatever, I don’t know, most of this break I’ve been tuning him out.   
I swallow and tell myself I’m allowed to be mad, and knock on Jean’s door.   
For a moment there’s nothing, I go to knock again, but the door opens to Jean with a fuzzy head of hair and no shirt on.  
“What th-” he freezes when he sees me.  
I look at him for a moment, confused, but when I hear an “Oof” in the back and recognize the look on Jean face, I roll my eyes.   
“It’s the first day back and you’re already fucking someone?” I say with a condescending raise of an eyebrow.   
Jean sputters and itches at his shoulder subconsciously trying to cover his chest, “I-I, we, we weren’t fucking, Eren.”   
A blush spreads from his cheeks over his chest. I resist from smirking. I honestly don’t think Jean has enough game to get laid in the first place, but it’s always funny to see him flustered about it. It reminds me of when we had our legendary kissing practice.   
“Right,” I mutter. I peer over his shoulder, “Who is it anyway?”   
Jean blocks my sight with his head. Well. A predatory and protective look lights up his eyes.   
“The fuck do you want anyway?” he growls. I completely forget that I was curious about who was in the room and exchange it with anger. Screw him. What gives him the right to yell at me anyways?   
“Fuck you Kirstein, don’t act like you don’t know why I’m here,” I hiss back.   
I don’t know why I said that, like, how could he know I was coming here?  
“What the fuck are you talking about?” he says, his voice rising.   
“I’m saying you’re a f-”   
“Ooookay, okay, boys. Let’s not start the semester off like this,” Marco coos pulling the door back and putting himself in between Jean and I.   
Ha! It’s Marco!  
Wait, what?  
“Wait, what’re you doing here?” I ask him, watching as a blush floods his freckled cheeks with a hand hovering over Jean’s bare chest.   
Marco gives me a shy smile.   
Oh. I suddenly regret coming here.  
I turn without another word, telling myself to forget that my roommate and ex best friend could’ve very possibly been fucking just moment before I knocked on the door.   
And now it’s my turn to blush.   
“Woah woah, it’s okay,” Marco sputters reaching for my shoulder and turning me back around. Jean and I both stare at the ground. “I was just leaving anyways, you two can talk now. I’m sure there’s lots to say,” he says like the optimistic little shit he always seems to be. The scary part is: I don’t even think it’s an act. And why would he settle for someone like Jean?  
Marco mumbles “I’ll talk to you later,” to Jean, and pats me on the shoulder. He slides past us being the lucky one to get out of this embarrassing moment.   
Another excruciatingly silent and embarrassing moment passes that I’ve unwillingly grown accustomed to.  
Jean clears his throat, “Uh, l-let me get a shirt.”   
I nod glancing up at him when he’s turned, noticing a purple hickey along his shoulder, and quickly resume to staring at the floor.  
Oh my god.   
Jean returns fully clothed, thank god, and tries to lean against the doorframe nonchalantly. He’s miserably failing still looking like he wants to kill himself from embarrassment.   
“So, um-”  
“Let’s just forget that happened,” I say, honestly just wanting to forget it.   
Jean smiles a bit, “Please.”   
I nod still feeling a bit awkward but whatever. “Okay, so anyway, I just wanted to- well, there’s something kinda weird- but it’s just that I don’t really know- I don’t know how to- I just want to forget about it, I guess, but not really- I don’t think, well, heh, I don’t know what to think at all- I’ve just been so- it’s just been so-”  
“Eren?” Jean says, looking at me confused.   
I blow out a frustrated sigh, wanting to punch myself instead of Jean this time.   
“I need a fucking drink,” I sigh, angry with myself.   
Jean chuckles a bit to himself and I now want to punch him again. He turns and pulls a jacket from the dorm and shrugs it on. He takes my duffel bag and tosses it in his room.   
“C’mon, I’ve got an idea,” he shrugs walking past me towards the stairs.   
I follow him without much question. I barely realize that this is the first time we’ve actually talked to each other without wanting to kill the other in like four years. It feels natural. I still idiotically trust him.   
I trot behind him outside the dorm complex and through the courtyards of mushy dead grass. We come up on a building that the bottom floor is meant for a cafeteria and the top floor is a gym. We walk inside and it’s nearly empty.   
Jean knows the way without hesitation, walking up the stairs to the second floor. He trots to a locker room and I follow for some reason.  
Jean opens up a little blue locker in the far section of the smelly room, taking out a wad of clothes and tossing them to me.   
“Here,” he grunts.  
The clothes wreak, my nose scrunches up. “What’re these for?”   
He starts taking off his jacket, “I thought alcohol might be a bad decision for us from what happened last time.”   
I remember the party before break and immediately change my clothes.   
Once changed, we trot out to the gym. I start wondering that if he thinks running is a better idea than drinking than he’s crazy. But Jean walks past the empty rows of treadmills and step machines and bicycles, to a back section of the room that’s dedicated to weights and punching bags.   
He pulls a pair of padded gloves out of his sweatshirt pocket that I hadn’t noticed he had and hands them to me. “Put them on,” he says.   
I shrug and do so, then turn to him, waiting.   
He moves to the back of a punching bag and goes to hold the attached padded handle on the side of the bag. He looks at me expectantly, “Go on, hit it.”  
I raise an eyebrow and look at the black sack hanging from the ceiling. “Why?” I ask.   
“Just do it, you’ll feel better,” he grumbles, waiting for me.   
I peer around the room to see if anyone is looking at us, but no one’s even here, it’s awkwardly quiet. “Dude, seriously?”   
Jean rolls his eyes, “Jeez, shut up and just hit it you fucking pussy,” he growls.   
Heat blinds my senses and I wail a gloved fist at Jean.   
I hit the bag with a smacking thump and hear as the chain rattles overhead. I look up a Jean and he’s smirking.   
“See,” he shrugs. I roll my eyes and send another fist whistling through the air at the heavy bag of muscle. As each fist hits I’m already sending the other to follow. I beat up the bag, punch after punch, smack after smack.   
I forget everything. I forget about Mikasa, about Armin, about Jean and Marco, about my Mom even. I just keep hitting the bag over and over and over. I don’t hear anything, I don’t see anything. I just punch, again and again.   
Sweat begins to trickle down my neck and back, my cheeks puff and redden, my hair clings to my sticky forehead. I breathe ragged hot breaths gritting my teeth against the pain of my weakening arms.   
“Okay, okay,” Jean says after I don’t know how long, “Hold on, fuckin’ tasmanian devil.” he mumbles. He peeks out from the side of the bag, “Now, what were you trying to say earlier?”   
I’m brought back to reality and remember everything I was trying to forget. I sigh and run a burning hand through my hair, it sticks to my head. “C’mon Jean, I don’t want to think about that right now,” I whine, rolling my shoulders and winding up for another punch.   
“I know I know, but Armin says that you can’t only solve problems by punching a bag,” he shrugs.   
I laugh, “So you’re taking advice from him now?”   
He sighs, “Yeah after it helped work things out for me.”  
I raise an eyebrow at him, “Like what?”   
He stands straighter and rubs his hands down his thighs, “Does it matter?”  
“Yeah.”  
He glares a bit, but relents, “Like Marco.”   
My interest is caught again. I drop my fist and smile a bit, “So you guys are fucking?”  
Jean runs a hand down his face, “No, Eren, it’s more than that, but it doesn’t matter.”   
“I thought you guys were just friends,” I say, remembering how Marco would constantly ask about Jean. Somehow this all makes an obscene amount of sense.   
“Yeah, well, not anymore,” he says to the ground, holding in a smile. He looks up at me with a glare, “Don’t. Tell. Anyone. This is still new to us and we don’t want people asking a bunch of questions.”   
I look at him for a while. He’s so serious, always being a drama queen. “Yeah yeah, I won’t say anything,” I mumble, still digesting his situation, guess he’s finally gotten over me, “So are you like fully gay now or-”  
“Shut up Eren.”   
We stand there both looking at the ground, I don’t want to be in my head anymore so I start talking without thinking. “I kissed Mikasa,” I say to the black and blue speckled gym mat under Jean’s feet.   
“You-”  
“I kissed her after the party,” I mumble, I stare aimlessly at the ground, “She hasn’t said anything to me since, I think she hates me.”   
I look up at Jean, he looks like he’s gonna puke.   
“Yeah, I know,” I say to his stupid face.   
“N-no, I just,” he says, “I’m surprised, is all.”  
I nod and fall into another staring contest with the moldy mat. After another moment of silence, Jean speaks up, “You should probably punch some more.”   
I use the invitation to wail at the plastic bag until every ounce of me is throbbing. I think I’m even wearing out Jean on the other side.   
I pull back from another fit of sweat, heavy breathing, and sore muscles. I take a few steps back, “I just don’t know what to do, I mean, I kissed her, yeah, but,” I breathe for a moment, “but I wanted to kiss her, like, she was there and I was there and it just felt like the right time, I,” another breath, “I just want her to say something to me, I’m going crazy.”   
“Have you tried telling her how you feel?” Jean asks sweat beading on his forehead.  
“Are you kidding me?” I ask the fairy princess that is Jean Kirstein.   
He rolls his eyes and continues, “Yeah dude, if you want to figure things out you need to tell her what’s going on with you, I’m sure she needs to talk too.”   
I give him a once over, “What the hell happened to you?”   
“Fuck you, I’m trying to help you. Grow a dick and tell her how you feel, or you’ll spend the rest of your life miserable and dickless.”   
“You’re so fucking weird,” I mumble taking another swing at the bag to Jean’s surprise. I give it another few good thwacks and wipe at the sweat dripping into my eye. And for a moment I’m actually scared that I’m even considering Jean’s advice. “Besides,” I sigh, “You know Mikasa, she doesn’t want to talk, ever. If I were to tell her how I feel it’d be like talking to a wall, she wouldn’t do anything.”   
Jean stands and wipes his bangs out of his face. I forget about Mikasa for a fleeting second and remember how good it is to be talking to Jean again. Time may have passed but we’re both essentially the same person.   
He scratches his stubbly jaw and shrugs, “It really doesn’t matter, Eren. She can still hear you, and in her own way she’ll eventually show how she feels too.” I slump forward and stare at my shoes, why does this have to be happening? I wish it will just go away. I have school to worry about. This is way too distracting.   
Jean tosses a towel at me and I wipe away the sticky sweat covering my face and neck. I look up at him and he’s staring at me, thinking. That can’t be good.   
“What?” I blurt.   
“How do you feel about Mikasa now anyways?”   
-  
What am I doing?   
God, this feels so wrong. This is bad. Very bad.   
I should at least take a shower. I stink, like, really bad. Who knew that punching a bag for an hour and a half would make you smell so bad?   
I shouldn’t be doing this. Not now. I need more time. I need to think about this. This isn’t just some kind of multiple choice answer where I can guess and hope for the best.   
This is Mikasa.   
She means more to me than anything in the whole world. She is my whole world. I’ve taken her for granted all of my life, but now I can see what she truly means to me.   
Each step in the mushy gray snow takes me closer to Mikasa. My heart skips and thumps ridiculously in my chest. It doesn’t know what to do. I’m nervous, I’m excited, I’m scared, I’m moving really fast. My heart is freaking out just as much as I am.   
But it tells me to keep going.   
My head, on the other hand, screams for me to turn away. It wants me to crawl under my bed and forget everything about Mikasa and Mom and anything that I can’t figure out. It tells my to run for the hills. To stop.   
My heart and my head are at a battle of wits, trying to outlast the other, trying to win. It’s entirely painful. I decide not to listen to either of them.   
I focus on my feet.   
They have a mind of their own now, and I trust they know the best way. And right now, they’re making a beeline for Mikasa’s dorm. Through the lobby, up the ridiculous amount of stairs, and right to her front door.   
I struggle to get my hand out of my pocket and shakily tap my knuckles on the door, hoping that Jean and Marco aren’t making out in this dorm too.   
The door swings open almost immediately, Sasha’s head popping out and glaring up at me with her bottom lip sticking comically out. She’s too cute to be intimidating.   
“Is Mikasa here?” I ask, focusing all of my energy on trying to keep my voice calm.   
Sasha’s eyes squint even smaller, “Who’s asking?”   
I look around, a bit off set by her question. “Uh, me?”   
She stares at me for a few moments too long. I mentioned that she wasn’t intimidating, but now that I realize she’s the only one with the power to let me in I find myself quickly losing this battle.   
Idea.  
I slide my backpack off one shoulder and go digging. Found it. I pull out the bag of half crushed potato chips and wave them temptingly in front of Sasha’s face. Her menacing scowl falters as she forgets about what she was blocking the door for.   
“So can I talk to Mikasa?” I say waving the bag a bit more.   
Sasha bites at her bottom lip, then launches herself at me and the bag of chips, almost knocking all three of us over. She snatches the bag from me simultaneously ripping it open and stuffing her face with its contents.   
“Fine,” she mumbles around a mouth full of fried potatoes, “But you get fife minutesh.”   
I nod and let myself in, Sasha and her crunching following me. I turn already knowing where Mikasa’s room is. The girls dorm is set up the same way as my dorm, and Mikasa coincidentally sleeps in the same room as I do. I step cautiously up to the closed door, knocking a little less confidently than before.   
Nobody answers. My head screams to run. My heart is nearly frozen.   
“Mikasa?” I ask, restraining myself from letting myself in, “Mikasa, I think we should talk.”   
Again nothing.   
I sigh and rest my head on the doorframe. I remember what Jean had said earlier about how she can still hear me whether she says anything or not. I swallow the cotton mouth and speak to the door.   
“I’m sorry Mikasa, for...for everything. I’m sorry for taking you for granted, I’m sorry for always putting myself first, I’m sorry I never thanked you for saving my ass all those times, I’m sorry for never noticing how you felt about me, I’m sorry for making you wait so long…  
“What Jean did was stupid, at the party I mean. We both know that there have been plenty of other times when he’s been stupid. But at the party, it scared me, what he said. Not-not in a bad way, just that I wasn’t ready, and I didn’t know what to do.   
“But now, after a month, once again I’m sorry, I know what to do. I know how I feel, Mikasa.” I swallow feeling my heart trying to climb up my throat. Just calm down, this is Mikasa, she’ll forgive you, she’ll always forgive you. “I, uh, I love you, Mikasa. And not only as a sister, but as someone I never want to let go, someone I could never give up. You mean the world to me and I just want things to be better. I can’t stand the silence from you, I want to hear your voice, I want to see you smile, I want to hold your hand…  
“Mikasa, I want to try this. This us thing. I want to be with you, and learn new ways to love you. Please give me a chance. You’ve waited so long for me, and now I’m here…”  
Her silence is deafening, it weighs heavy on my heart, but at least I said it. And now all I have to do is wait for her. The door doesn’t move, I can’t hear any shuffling on the other side, only the constant munching from behind me where I know Sasha is watching me.   
“You waited for me Mikasa, and now I’ll wait for you.”   
I let out a breath and stand up from the door, still wishing she’d at least say something from the other side.   
Nothing.   
I turn defeated but somewhat satisfied that I had the balls to say something to her. I now understand why Jean told me to do this. It’s freeing. I’m not in my head anymore. I may be disappointed that Mikasa isn’t in my arms but at least she heard me.  
I glance up at Sasha. She’s standing maybe three feet from me, stuffing potato crumbs into her mouth, and crying. I want to ask her if she’s okay, but I’m mostly freaked out.   
“Text me if she comes out of there anytime soon,” I mumble moving around her.   
She shakes her head viciously, crumbs falling from her greasy lips. “No! You can’t go, please, she has to come out, you guys have to kiss!” she sobs.   
I pat her on the shoulder and continue moving, silently agreeing with her. I make my way to the door and let myself out.  
The door’s almost closed behind me when I hear Sasha shriek, “Mikasa if you don’t run after him and kiss him, I will!”   
I would’ve laughed or smiled if I didn’t feel so lousy. I continue to close the door, until someone pulls it back gently.   
I glance back. Mikasa.   
I let go of the door and stare at her like a deer in headlights. She looks up at me, her dark almond eyes trying to say a million things so she doesn’t have to speak.   
She’s so beautiful.   
I summon the courage to do something brave. I reach back out to her and curl a piece of silky black hair out of her face and tuck it behind her ear. The corner of her mouth twitches up in a subtle smile.   
My hand gently moves back through her hair to hold the back of her head. I lean down to close the space between us, my heart nearly bursts out of my chest. This is probably the scariest thing I’ve ever done.   
I kiss her.   
But this kiss wasn’t like the one a month ago. That one was out of fear and confusion. This one I know what I’m doing, I know why I’m doing it, and so does Mikasa.  
This is how it’s supposed to me, her and I. And now that I’ve got her, I don’t think I’ll ever be able to let go.


	24. Slow to Forgive (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

The band’s back together.  
Well, kinda.  
‘The Band’ for me is the middle school squad; just Eren, Mikasa, and I. But right now I sit at a round wobbly table partied to me, Marco, Eren, Mikasa, Armin, Annie, Mina, Sasha, and Connie.   
So the band’s grown.   
Not only do we have a frontman, guitar, and drums, but we also have a bass, keyboard, two backup singers, a second guitar, and the triangle for some reason.   
Sasha and Connie are in their own little world talking about Tie Dye shirts and what it’d be like to hollow out a potato and use it as a bong.   
Armin’s focus is on the more brooding blonde sitting next to him saying small comments and offering her his fries every once in a while.   
Eren is trying to argue with Marco and Mina on the fact that he insists the nuggets from Chick-Fil-A probably has ground up chicken bones and eyeballs in it. Marco just laughs but Mina hits him back with the honor Chick-Fil-A has over McDonalds. I want to say something to join the conversation but I honestly don’t give a fuck if the chicken is made of eyeballs or cow shit or alligator tongue, I’d still eat it. Plus it’s funny to see Mina and Eren go after each other, I’ve kind of always known Mina had a fiery side but seeing it when it’s not directed at me is immensely entertaining. Marco makes sure to keep his hand on my thigh so I don’t feel left out, he knows I’m entirely distracted by the silence that omits from the other side of the table.   
I stare down Mikasa like I’m trying to read her mind, because I am, but my cells haven’t mutated enough for me to do that yet so I just look like an idiot oogling her. But there’s nothing else I can do. She’s ignoring me. I think she hates me. Even though I helped Eren come to his senses about feelings for her an entire month ago, she still won’t acknowledge me.   
Eren and I go work out sometimes now, after he figured out that he likes punching stuff (it only took the ball of anger and violence to put it together after eighteen years of unfathomable hate and confusion.) He bothers me probably two or three times a week to go to the gym. It’s kinda nice, I guess. It reminds me that he was my best friend at one point and I do like hanging out with him. Plus it keeps me off my lazy ass and in shape. Now that I got a cute boyfriend I can’t really do my Never Get Out Of Bed and Eat All Of the Food weekends.   
But, since Eren and I have been hanging out I asked him a few weeks ago how it went with Mikasa and he said it went really well, they’re even dating now. Even so, Mikasa will not spare a single moment to look at me without scowling or give me a half assed answer when I ask her how her classes are going. She treats me like I’m not even there.   
Eren says that she’s still trying to get over me blurting her secret out at the party. But that was two months ago! And she even got what she wanted, I don’t understand her.   
“So, uh, Mikasa,” I start, sitting up and interrupting Eren in his story of the time he was eating dirt and broke his tooth on a rock. And no, it wasn’t when he was a kid, it was when he was thirteen, he was dared. I dared him. “What’re your moving plans for next year? Are you still gonna stay in a dorm or are you planning on moving out?” I ask stupidly, cringing at my own initiation of small talk in desperate efforts to get her to say something to me. I don’t know why I’m trying so hard. It just bothers me. Marco may have mentioned a few weeks ago that it might have something to do with the fact that I actually feel guilty for what I said, and that Mikasa’s lack of forgiveness is making me feel even worse, but I ignored him and continued to destroy him in Call of Duty.   
Mikasa says nothing, she barely moves. She just continues to pick at pieces of lettuce in her salad with the tip of her fork, completely ignoring that I’m sitting literally right across from her. Marco squeezes my knee and I feel like storming out. I don’t deserve this, this is bullshit.   
“Moving out,” her small voice sighs from above her plate.   
I nearly jump out of my seat.   
She said something. Two words. That’s the first time she’s spoken to me in years. Literally years. Almost five of them. The last thing she said to me was a violent threat to back off, and now she tells me she moving out next year. She knows I’m here. I’m not invisible.   
I contain myself from smiling like an idiot. I look up at her even though she’s still staring down at her salad; the rest of the table is trying to nonchalantly act like they’re not listening. It’s not working, I blame Eren and his transparency.  
“So where, uh, do you plan to move? Are you willing to commute?” I ask, not even caring that they’re dumb questions only to satisfy that Mikasa’s actually talking to me again.   
Mikasa shifts her dark her eyes up at me and a flickering flame of fright flares up for a moment when I recognize her deathly scowl. I decide that asking too many stupid questions is probably too much and that I’m content with her two worded answer from before. I drop the conversation and let Eren resume his idiotic storytelling.   
I sit back and let myself have a win to chipping at Mikasa’s fortified hatred for me. I don’t know what this means though. Does she forgive me? Are we cool now? Should I still apologize for being an idiot? I mean, I don’t have that much to apologize for, I only spilled her most solemnly kept secret which ended up in their getting together, right? Shouldn’t she be thanking me? Okay, I won’t go that far, but I’m thinking we’re even.   
The rest of dinner is spent chowing down a ridiculous amount of pizza and arguing about whether Thor or Wonder Woman would win in a fight. I don’t push any more questions on Mikasa. Though I’m still kind of watching her like a freak seeing if she’ll look up at me. She doesn't, it’s fine.   
I have a plan.   
We lick the rest of the pizza we can afford off our plates and toss a bunch of crumpled bills onto the table that should be enough to pay for it all, and head back into the cold.   
We walked to this pizza place just off of campus so no one would have to drive, also because no one has enough gas money to drive. We all walk in huddled pairs. I’m holding onto Marco’s hand inside my jacket pocket as we trail behind Eren and Mikasa who are linked together by their arms. No one talks on our little walk, it’s too cold. We’re in the first week of February and the cold is relentless.   
Once we’re back on campus grounds and just about to split off to everyone’s separate dorms, I lean over to Marco and whisper my plan to him. I tell him to follow my lead, he nods and I give him a kiss goodnight, then we break and slide up on either side of Mikasa and Eren. Neither of them see us swoop in because both of them have their noses stuffed in their scarves against the cold.   
I clear my throat making at little look at Marco, “So uh, Eren, if you don’t mind, I can walk Mikasa home tonight.”   
Eren perks up and squints at me a little confused, naturally. Marco nudges him on the shoulder and beckons him to walk with him to their dorm. Eren looks back at me and I make an awkward smile with my eyebrows raised, hoping he’ll get the hint. He looks back between Marco, Mikasa, and I before finally understanding.   
He chokes out a little cough, “Oh, y-yeah, sure,” he takes a moment to pause and give Mikasa a little smooch before whispering something to her to which she nods and turns to go with Marco. It’s a little weird seeing them kiss, it’s just, I had a crush on both of them, at the same time. Whatever, I’ll get over it.   
Mikasa looks up at me with her scarlet scarf covering half her face, “I don’t need to be walked home,” she mutters through the fabric.   
I shrug, “I know, I just wanted to talk a little more.” She shakes her head and looks back down at the snow covered street.   
Here goes. “So, how’s everything going?” I ask, “With Eren, I mean,” I add cursing myself for not preparing something in advance.   
She pauses a moment, still content with staring at the ground, “It’s none of your business, Jean.”  
I rub my drippy nose. “I-I know, it’s just, Eren seems pretty happy now, you know. He’s not so- he’s more tolerable I guess,” I joke.   
Mikasa doesn’t laugh. I forgot she doesn’t like jokes. Especially about Eren. Shit.   
“Heh, well I just wanted to make sure you were okay, with- you know- with everything that happened,” I say feeling a blush warm my face.  
Silence.   
“You’ve just been really distant, and I don’t know-”  
“Just let it go Jean,” she says to the ground.   
“Uh, what-I-”  
“I know you’ve been asking about me, and,” she glances up at me, “watching me.”   
My blush crawls farther up my face like mercury rising in a thermometer.   
She sighs, “I’ve been avoiding you because I’m still trying to forgive you.”   
I stay silent.   
“I was going to kill you for what you did at the party,” she says, “I dreamt of different ways to poison you, or to break your fingers.” I subconsciously clench my fists inside my pockets, thankful for Mikasa’s mercy. “If Eren had kept avoiding me you would’ve been in the hospital by now.”  
I decide silence is better than anything I could say, looking down at the ground along with Mikasa.   
“So don’t think I’m overreacting when I haven’t really felt like talking to you recently,” she says. If it were any other girl talking like this it would’ve sounded patronizing or condescending, but with Mikasa, she’s dead serious, never talking through her ego, never with attitude. She’s logical and truthful, that’s one of the reasons I liked her so much back then.   
“Things with Eren have been good,” she pauses, “thanks to you,” she mumbles into her scarf. “So just let me take some time to get over what you did. It was still shitty and just because things worked out doesn’t mean you got away with it.”   
I smile. Mikasa doesn’t see.   
She’s always been such a mom. Always. She protects Eren, Armin, and even me a while ago. Now she’s telling me not to get cocky just because the gods decided that I shouldn’t have to die for what I did. I missed her.   
I nod, simply agreeing because I enjoy when she’s talking to me. Also because she’s kind of en route to forgiving me. I think forward to my nightly phone call with Marco tonight, he’ll probably ask if I apologized. I’ll have to say no because I let Mikasa do all the talking. He’ll tell me I should’ve apologized no matter what she said, because it’s the right thing to do and blah blah blah.   
I sigh in the silence as we approach Mikasa’s dorm. The brick and cement building illuminated by green street lamps and lights that are left on in people’s rooms. She walks ahead of me without another word.   
I clear my throat to swallow the lump of pride that’s blocking my vocal cords. “Hey Mikasa?” I say after her. To her mercy, she turns and eyes me over her scarf, “I am sorry for that night, I was stupid and drunk and trying to win a fight with your boyfriend. But, I-I do feel bad about it,” I say, “I, uh, just wanted you to know.”   
She looks at me for a second longer and nods, turning back towards the steps leading up to the lobby doors. “Goodnight Jean.”  
I hold in a victory fist to the air, and watch her until she’s disappeared into the building and the door has closed behind her.  
I turn to head back to my dorm, the sense of victory feeling like a high after a run. I did it. I fucking apologized. I honestly don’t remember the last time I did such a thing. But Mikasa’s talking to me now, her and Eren and together, Marco is my fucking boyfriend, and I don’t hate being at school anymore.  
It’s fucking cold and I can feel the burning chill pierce through the holes of my jeans as I brace against the wind. But I don’t care. I finally have my fucking life together. I’m no longer an antisocial shut-in that is haunted by the guilt and shame of middle school. I no longer have to find a feeling of worthiness through video games or art. I have friends now. I have a boyfriend now. I can forget about stupid middle school and high school and look forward to a life that is spent with the people I love.   
I have a life now. A good one.  
What did I do to deserve this?


	25. Meet the Parents (Armin POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Armin marched down the narrow hallway of the boy’s dormitory in Hall Rose. The lighting was very dim and he could hear either loud laughter or explosions (probably from an action movie or video game) radiating from the thin walls around him. He stared at his shoes anxiously as he thought about his current mission.   
It had been almost a year since he met Annie and he still knew little to nothing about her. What he was definite about was her degree choice of criminology, she was a master in martial arts, and that Reiner and Berthold were her childhood friends. Everything else was either a rumor or uncertain. He tried asking Connie and Sasha if they knew anything, anything at all, about the Leonhart girl because he knew that they attended the same high school with her in Marley but they simply shrugged their shoulders.   
“Can’t say that I do,” Sasha had replied, peering at the ceiling in thought. “She’s so mysterious and quiet; I think she doesn’t like talking about herself.”   
“All I know is that if you try to sprinkle salt into her drink when her back is turned, you will end up with a black eye for your senior pictures,” Connie told him. He said this like it was common sense but Sasha laughed loudly at the memory and tried to search through their yearbook to bring up the devastating picture.   
When that didn’t work, he turned to Historia and Ymir who also attended Marley High.   
“No, sorry,” Historia apologized. She appeared genuinely sad that she didn’t know anything about Annie. “She isn’t much of a talker and there isn’t really anything that stands out about her. It’s almost like she’s wallpaper.”   
“What I wanna know is how she hasn’t punched out all your teeth yet,” Ymir sneered with a raise of her skinny eyebrows and a grin on her lips. “You follow her around like a duckling and ask her a crapload of questions that she gives half-assed responses. Like how are you still alive? She punches anything that’s annoying.”   
Historia pushed against Ymir’s side (which wasn’t really effective) and scolded her, telling her she was being rude. Armin thought she brought up another question for him to decode--how was he still alive?   
So that’s why Armin now stood outside Reiner and Bertholdt’s door.   
He bit on the inside of his cheek as he tapped his bony knuckles against the wooden door. Why was he so nervous? It wasn’t like anything was going to happen to him. Was he afraid of what he would find out? Was Annie hiding something? He closed his eyes in frustration. No, don’t think like that. Everyone has secrets. Everyone has something they don’t want to tell. But...is that what Annie wants? For her whole life to be one giant secret, something unspeakable, unrelatable? He opened them again.   
No, no one really wants that. Everyone wants someone to listen to them; it’s only a matter of who is willing to do just that.   
I can be that person, he thought. I’ll listen.   
The door creaked open. Armin looked up at Reiner who was in mid-yawn, peering down at him like he was the baby bunny at the bottom of a great and intimidating hill.   
“Oh hey, Armin,” he greeted, scratching his jaw. “Uh, Eren’s not here right now. I think he went to the gym with Jean again.”   
“I know. That’s why I’m here. I need to talk to you and Berthold.”   
One blond eyebrow rose in mild interest. “Ah, really? Well alright then; come on in.” He moved to the side and Armin took a hesitant step in.   
“Uh, is Marco here?” Armin asked as Reiner closed the door.   
“No, he’s at work.” He knocked on a closed door to his right. “Hey, Bert,” he called. “Armin’s here and he wants to talk with us.”   
Armin frowned at the way Reiner said that statement. It sounded like he was a child wanting to ask his parents something, like he couldn’t take him seriously.   
“I’ll be out in a minute!” came the muffled voice of Berthold.   
“He’ll be out in a minute,” Reiner said.   
“Yeah, I heard him.”   
Reiner chuckled lowly and walked passed him and into the kitchen. Armin followed him there and glanced around the room. This dorm was always a mess whenever Armin visited--clothes were draped over furniture, dirty dishes piled high in the sink, food left out on end tables and chairs. Marco and Berthold were generally clean people but Eren and Reiner must be bigger slobs than even those two could handle.   
Armin carefully seated himself on a unstable stool by the kitchen counter while Reiner opened the fridge. “Can I get you anything?” he heard him ask. “Some beer or vodka…” He peeked behind his shoulder at him, grinning. “Maybe some apple juice?”   
“No thanks,” Armin replied, already feeling pissed off. “Hopefully I won’t take up too much of your time.”   
Reiner shrugged. “Suit yourself.” He reached inside and grabbed an already-opened bottle of Bud Light. He took a sip and leaned on the counter opposite of Armin.   
“So what did you wanna talk about? Maybe the earth’s gravitational pull? Or how to start the campaign for bathing the whales?”   
“Can you stop that?” Armin asked, annoyance clear in his tone.   
“Stop what?”   
“Stop treating me like a middle school bully.” He rested his chin in his hand. “At least come up with something clever.”   
Reiner blinked, obviously a little surprised with Armin’s attitude. “I’m guessing you’ve had experience with this before?”   
He shrugged. “Something like that.”   
Berthold strolled through the threshold, pushing his arm through one of the sleeves in his shirt. He smiled. “Hey, Armin. What’s going on?”   
Both blondes straightened up at the sound of Berthold’s quiet but friendly voice. “Nothing much. Just came here to ask a favor of you two.”   
Berthold’s thick eyebrows raised in interest and inquiry. “A favor, huh? Sure, whatchya need?”  
Armin took a deep breath before answering. Alright, here goes. “I’d like you to tell me something about Annie.”   
Reiner’s reaction was small and stiff like he knew this before Armin even stepped through the front door while Berthold’s was confused and perhaps a little shocked. “Uh, what do you mean ‘something about Annie?’”   
“Well, anything really. We hang out a lot--usually with other people--and talk sometimes but I’m, uh, kind of embarrassed to say I don’t know much about her. She doesn’t talk about herself, nearly at all, and most of the time I have to try and pry stuff out of her.” He glanced between Annie’s childhood friends. “I was hoping you guys could inform me more about her. I’m, uh--” he chuckled nervously “--kinda desperate at this point.”  
Berthold stepped forward and leaned his elbows on the counter. “To be honest, this past year is the most I’ve heard Annie talk in a very long time.”   
Armin’s shoulders slumped, almost in defeat. “Really?”   
“Yeah.” Berthold glanced at Reiner. “She never talks, even when spoken to. She has up a whole lot of walls and it takes a whole lot of effort to see through each one. But trust me she’s a nice person once you get to know her.”   
“I already knew that,” Armin mumbled to the side though neither Reiner or Berthold heard him.   
“I’m just surprised she hasn’t beaten you senseless yet,” Reiner added in, smirking.   
“That’s what Ymir said.”   
“She only does that if you purposely annoy her.” Berthold said this like she was a cat that only nipped you if you got too close. “Reiner and Ymir and Connie know that because that’s what they do all the time.”   
“And her punches have gotten a thousand times stronger since we were kids. I’m just helping her out.”   
“Yeah, how long has she been going at martial arts?” Armin asked.   
“Since middle school; it’s where we met.”   
“Do you know why she went into it in the first place?”   
“To protect herself fro--”   
Berthold panicked and slammed his hand down on Reiner’s wrist, creating an audible slapping sound. It probably would’ve hurt on any other person but, with Reiner being the product of the Super Soldier Serum, he hardly even flinched. He peeked at his boyfriend to which Berthold mouthed “Don’t” in a very worried manner. Reiner exhaled through his nostrils and looked at Armin like he never said anything.   
“To protect herself?” Armin echoed. “From what?”   
Reiner took another swig of his beer as Berthold slowly retracted his arm back, looking at Armin like a deer in headlights. All that came out of his mouth were small, stumbling noises and Armin was beginning to think that he was choking on something. Reiner eventually patted his back in a somewhat reassuring manner and then told Armin, “We can’t tell you that.”   
Armin frowned. “Why not?”   
“Because that’s her business, all right? If you’re so interested, why don’t you go and ask her yourself? It’ll only be a matter of time before she rips out your--”   
“Reiner, stop,” Berthold commanded, silencing him almost immediately.   
When he studied Reiner’s pissed off face and Berthold’s anxious tone, Armin regretting having come there at all. What the hell just happened? Everything was fine a few seconds ago but now Reiner’s wants me dead and Berthold looks so panicked he might start crying. What did I do?   
“What--What Reiner meant to say was,” Berthold began, the stiffness in his body slowly melting away in calm rivers, “that is something only Annie can tell you.”  
“Why is that?”   
Berthold pursed his lips. “Look, Armin, you’re a nice guy and I can tell how much you care about her. I know you only mean the best for her and I know this because I used to feel the same way about her too, way back in the day.” Armin was a little surprised to learn of Berthold having a major crush on Annie but decided now was not the best time to question it. “But if there’s anything I learned about Annie Leonhart over the years is that when she’s ready, when she feels like she can truly trust you, she’ll come to you.” Berthold grinned shyly. “That’s how me and Reiner discovered Annie’s reasoning for wanting to punch everybody.”   
Reiner snorted, memories flowing through his mind which were probably filled with black eyes and Annie’s infamous death glare.   
“So I’m sorry say we can’t help you, Armin,” Berthold continued. “My advice to you is to keep doing what you’re doing and eventually she’ll let you in.”   
Armin peered down at his chewed-up fingernails. “I’d figured this would happen,” he mumbled, wondering just how much longer Annie would keep him in the dark, in this huge abyss he was trying to crawl out of.


	26. On This Walk With You (Historia POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Birds were singing happily overhead and tiny squirrels were climbing up and down trees as Historia and Ymir walked hand in hand down Trost Park. Spring semester had gone by fairly quickly for Historia and she could hardly believe that there was only three weeks left. Her grades were nice, her future was getting closer, but the girl strolling beside her was making all the difference.   
Historia peeked up at her girlfriend from underneath her wide-brim sun hat. She recalled their days from Marley High; everything was so different back then. Ymir was the troublemaker with piercings and tattoos (and still is) that visited the principal’s office at least once a week and sat alone at lunch while Historia was the captain of the cheerleading squad and dating the school’s quarterback. The blonde admitted that she hardly looked Ymir’s way and honestly didn’t know that she existed until the day they formally met.   
Ymir had caught Historia sitting on the curb of the school’s parking lot after school, crying to herself. She was supposed to be at cheerleading practice and was dressed in her blue and gold uniform, but she couldn’t bring herself to. She was angry and sad and scared and confused, all at the same time. She couldn’t help but to feel a little out of place, a little different from all the other cheerleaders and she couldn’t return the love her boyfriend, Tyler, was giving her. It all felt so...pointless, so dull. And so she let out all these emotions in a place where no one could see her, until Ymir showed up that is.   
“Hey, you’re Historia Reiss, right?” Ymir had asked her, standing behind her with a backpack slung over one shoulder.   
Historia flinched at the unexpected voice and whirled toward Ymir, her eyes stinging and her throat burning from all the sobbing she’d done. When Ymir blinked back at her in surprise, she frowned and spun back around, throwing her wet face back into her knees.   
“Go away,” she whimpered. “I want to be alone.”  
The only sound she could hear was her own pathetic hiccups and vehicles zooming by the street up ahead. She thought Ymir had walked away but then she felt her presence lower herself on the curb beside her.   
“I said go away,” she repeated, her voice quieter this time.   
“No can do,” she replied. “Sounds like you need a shoulder to cry on, my friend. Literally.”   
“I’m not your friend. I don’t know you.”   
“Oh, right. My bad. The name’s Ymir. We’ve only had four classes together since entering high school and we have the same lunch period. It’s like we’re practically strangers, right?”   
Historia rubbed her eyes furiously. “What do you want, ‘Ymir?’”   
“Oh, I just wanna know why you’re crying so much. I’m supposed to be in detention right now and if they hear you, they might think I put gum in your hair or something stupid like that. So why don’t you calm down and tell me what’s wrong?”   
She slowly lifted her head from her small knees and looked over at her. Ymir had her legs sprawled out in front of her and was leaning back on her elbows while watching the cars drive by the school. She had on a bored expression and then glanced at her when she felt Historia’s eyes land on her.   
“Well?” she asked. “You gonna tell me or not?”   
Historia thought about it. She didn’t know this girl--despite how many classes Ymir claimed they had together--and she really wanted to talk to someone. She couldn’t go to other people like Tyler or her friends or her father because they were all a part of the problem. This girl, however, wasn’t and in fact was encouraging her to speak with her. Maybe she’ll spill her problems to her and then never see each other again. She just needed to rant.   
She sighed shakily. “If I tell you, will you promise not to tell anyone?”   
Ymir cracked a smile. “Sure. Hell, if you tell me your deepest, darkest secret, I’ll tell you mine.”   
Historia smiled the tiniest bit, already feeling reassured by this girl’s casualness. She took another deep breath and aimed her gaze at Ymir’s beat-up Doc Martins. “I...have a boyfriend. His name is Tyler Jones and he’s--”   
“--the quarterback of Marley High.” Ymir huffed. “Yeah, I know; the whole school does. You guys are kinda like the ‘it’ couple now.”   
Historia, a little embarrassed, snuck a quick glance at her before resorting back to staring at Ymir’s boots again. She now looked pissed off and was rolling her narrowed eyes up to the ash grey sky. She continued: “Well, it’s not--it’s probably not gonna be for every much longer because I think I’m gonna break up with him.”   
She could hear the spark of interest in Ymir’s response: “Really? Why’s that?”   
“Because”--she sniffed--“because I don’t think I love him. I don’t think I ever did, really. Like every time he holds my hand or kisses me or puts his arm around my shoulder, I don’t feel anything. I mean, you should feel loved or giddy or whatever, but I don’t. It’s--It’s weird. And like when I’m with my friends, my friends from cheerleading, I feel so much better. I like hanging around them and talking with them. I enjoy hearing them talk about stuff they like and what’s going on in their lives and I like giving them hugs and help pick out dresses for prom and go to cheerleading practice with them. But when I tell them they’re pretty or hug them as they cry, they just think I’m being nice, that I’m being a good friend, but I’m not. I really mean it when I tell them they’re pretty and sometimes I don’t wanna let them go when I hug them.”   
She fiddled with her shoelaces. “I...like the way they feel. Like when we’re practicing throws or huddle before a football game. They feel so soft and warm and they smell really nice. I like laying in their laps at sleepovers and I…” She felt her cheeks warm up as she completed her next sentence. “...can’t help but stare a little whenever they get out of the shower and are still wrapped up in a towel. No one knows I feel this way; they just think of me as a close friend when the truth is...I-I wanna be more than that.”   
She breathed and felt a little bit better now that she admitted it out loud. She bit her lip and turned to look at Ymir, her temple resting on her bare knee. She was looking at her strangely--not like in disgust but in...what? Surprise? Fear? Hope? She didn’t know; she was just glad that she wasn’t looking at her like another friend, like another nice girl.   
“Anyway,” she sniffed, sitting up straighter and wiping the last of her makeup off her face, “that’s why I’m gonna break up with Tyler. Or that’s the plan anyhow.”   
Ymir didn’t say anything. She just went on staring at her.   
“Uh…” She was beginning to feel a little uncomfortable and decided to turn the tables. “What about you? I’ve told you my deepest, darkest secret. What’s yours?”   
Ymir blinked as if being awoken from a trance. “Oh, uh…” She glanced to the side and Historia thought she saw a tint of pink blooming across her freckled cheeks. “I was gonna tell you that I released my pet tarantula, Bobby, into the principal’s office but, after that confession, I feel like that secret isn’t good enough.”   
Historia burst out laughing and the sound was a surprise to both of them. She didn’t expect to feel so at ease, so calm around this strange girl and it felt nice. Really nice.   
Ymir chuckled and then cleared her throat. “Well, alright, here goes.” She paused, staring at those speeding cars again. “I get it; I know how you feel because I like girls too.”   
Historia was shocked but Ymir didn’t give her the chance to actually feel it until she uttered her next confession: “But my deepest, darkest secret is you. I’ve had a crush on you for a very long time.” Her voice got softer at the last three words.   
Another moment of silence passed through them like a drifting ghost. Historia sat still as Ymir slowly picked herself up. “So yeah. I won’t tell if you don’t. Anyway it was, uh, kinda nice talking with you, Historia.”   
She walked away and lifted her hand over head in parting. “Let me know if that jock cries like a baby when you break up with him!” she called.   
Historia smiled and waved back, even though she knew that she couldn’t see her.  
\-   
That next week Historia had broken up with Tyler and had come out as a lesbian. Shortly after that, she and Ymir began dating.   
“What are you looking at, short stuff? Is there a hickey on my jaw or something?”   
Ymir’s snarky question brought Historia back to the present. She giggled. “No, I was just thinking.”   
“About what?”   
She grinned up at her. “You’ll see,” she replied in a mysterious tone, thinking about that little black box in her purse.   
Ymir’s raised her eyebrow. “Okay?”   
She squeezed her hand and they continued their walk around the park, enjoying one another’s company.   
When they reached the giant pine trees that opened up to a lengthy trail, Ymir slowed to a stop and said, “Hey, can we stop here?”   
Historia looked up at her. “Sure. You okay?”   
“Yeah, I’m fine.”   
She didn’t look fine: her lips were pressed tight against each other, creating a thin white line. Her amber eyes were darting around the forest and her hand was beginning to feel a bit clammy. Historia frowned. “Are you sure?”   
She sighed and landed her gaze on Historia. “Do you remember the first time we met? Like properly?”   
She smiled brightly. “Yes, I do.”   
“Well, when I told you I liked you, I didn’t expect us to start dating so shortly after I said it and I didn’t expect us to go to college together and I really didn’t expect us to still be together, for about three years now and I…” She trailed off, clearly nervous.   
Historia tilted her head to the side, trying to get a good look at Ymir’s lowered face. “What are you saying? Are you okay?”   
She met her gaze once again. “And...I would have never predicted doing this.”   
Before she realized what she was doing, Historia watched Ymir get on one knee, reach into her hoodie pocket, and pull out a tiny black box. She opened it and revealed a shiny silver ring, a small but brilliant diamond reflecting its round surface.   
Historia felt her heart jump to her throat, making it impossible to breathe.   
“Historia,” Ymir continued, her freckled face bringing a whole new shade of red to the color spectrum, “I loved you before you even knew I existed and I promise to love you even after we’re both gone. I promise to stay by your side and to cherish you like the goddess I think you are. Historia, I have never cared for anything so much in my life as I do with you so please will-will you marry me?” She offered the ring up to her, nothing but love and honesty spreading throughout her features.   
Before thinking properly, Historia gasped and blurted out, “Oh, no!”   
Ymir hesitated and let the word sink in and Historia saw it weigh down her shoulders and her arms. “What?” she whispered; her voice was filled with so much sorrow, Historia could’ve broke down crying at that very moment.   
She pushed her hands out in front of her. “No! I mean, yes! Yes, of course I will marry you! It’s just that…” She quickly rummaged through her purse and fished out a very similar black box. She opened it up and showed the simple golden ring she bought for her love.   
“It’s just that I was gonna do that,” she finished, smiling awkwardly.   
Ymir stared at Historia’s offering. The embarrassment was so intense, Historia thought she could feel steam blowing from her ears like a cartoon character. She stood there, frozen like a statue as she watched Ymir study her ring, looked down at her own, and then looked back up at her. When their eyes met again, Ymir slowly broke into a wide smile and started laughing.   
The sound was like music to her ears.   
“Wait, really?” Ymir laughed. “How-How can that happen? Is this real? Holy shi-you little sap! I mean, yeah! Yes, I’ll marry you. This is--oh my--yes! This is the best day ever!”   
Ymir threw her arms around Historia’s waist and she tangled her hands in her choppy brown hair, laughing along with her. The happiness she felt was like no other--her cheeks ached from smiling too much and her chest soared like the bluebirds flying above them.   
Historia kissed the top of Ymir’s head. I agree, Ymir. This is the best day ever.


	27. It Comes in Waves (Annie POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

A soft knock sounded throughout the dorm room and Annie groaned loudly. She was the only one in the dorm and that meant she had to answer it and she was in the middle of preparing a snack (sliced green apples with a giant jar of peanut butter) so she could study for her biology exam next week. Instead of setting down the thin kitchen knife she was using to cut up the apple, she decided to bring it with her to the door--that should send the message across to whoever wanted to bug her right now.   
She groaned internally when she did open the door and realize who it was.   
“Hi,” Armin greeted, smiling shyly.   
“Hey,” she replied, blinking slowly in mild frustration. “You need something?”   
“Uh, I have a request for you,” he trailed, eyeing the shiny knife Annie was tapping against her thigh.   
“What?”   
He looked back up at her, stared for a moment, and then asked, “Are you free right now?”   
She raised an eyebrow and held up the knife. “I was just making myself a snack.”  
He pursed his lips. “No offense but can that wait a while? I’d, uh, like to take you out to--to talk, you know.” He pushed his hands into his green hoodie pocket nervously.   
Annie studied his expression--it was a mixture of determination and anxiousness. A very odd combination. Normally Armin politely asked if Annie ever wanted to do something but now his usual innocent inquiry sounded more of a statement rather than a question. She grew curious and asked him, “Why? What’s there to talk about?”   
He shrugged. “There’s something I wanna tell you and I feel like this isn’t the place for it.”   
Confusion made its way into her thoughts. Not the place for it? What’s that supposed to mean? What did he have to tell her that couldn’t be said right outside her dorm room?   
Still she sighed and leaned against the wall beside her, a lock of her blonde hair falling into her eyes. “Well, I hope you’re fine with me going out in public because I haven’t washed my hair today and I don’t want to change out of my sweatpants.”   
Armin chuckled. “That’s fine. You can wear whatever you’d like; I’d still go out with you even if you wore a paper bag over your head.”  
Annie left the door open as she spun around to put her unprepared snack away and put on a pair of old sneakers, pretending to not have heard Armin’s last remark.   
The blond duo travelled around downtown Trost. Their walk was silent which was another confusing change in Armin’s behavior. He always had something to say it seemed and he talked to her like he never spoke with another human being before, but now he was just as quiet as she was (and to be honest it kind of freaked her out; almost no one could be as silent as her). She occasionally glanced at his face and tried to decode his intentions but he just looked straight ahead, clearly persistent on where they were going. Speaking of which…  
“Where are you taking me?” she asked, peering around them. There were no street names or landmarks that looked familiar to her, then again she hardly left the school grounds in the first place.   
He finally glanced down at her and grinned. “You’ll see when we get there.”   
She frowned. She didn’t like that answer and she hated surprises more so. Her fingers went to tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear. This was going to be a long session or walk or outing or whatever the hell this was.   
It was another ten or so minutes until Annie spoke again which was when they arrived at their destination. She looked up to find a large building with lots of windows and a long line crowding around the front of it. Several meters away was a bronze sculpture of a mother manatee and her baby, their fat noses touching each other. A couple kids were standing next to the worn-out statue as they tried to copy the mammals’ pose so their own mother could snap a picture.   
“An aquarium?” she deadpanned, glancing at Armin.   
He went to jump in line and threw her a smile. “I like coming here to think. It calms me down a bit.”   
She hesitated before joining him in line, thinking she didn’t really have a choice in the matter.   
No other words were exchanged between them as they waited in line, bought two tickets, and travelled throughout the majority of the aquarium. Annie watched him gaze into each tank, at each fish, and at each informatal sign; he appeared calm and content. The way his eyes would sparkle as he followed the wavy path each catfish or the way he would smile to himself when they saw the pink jellyfish float around in their tiny tank or how he would gently nudge Annie’s elbow and point at a bored tiger shark swim above them. He was easily amused and his reaction closely resembled to those wonderstruck children surrounding each porthole. She didn’t know she was smiling until she caught a glimpse of her reflection on the thick glass of the tank, quickly dropping it before Armin could see.   
She followed him around like how a duckling would follow its mother, stopping when he did and going when he moved. Her eyes travelled with his and she read some plaques that told her what kind of fish she was looking at or how to do her part with saving life down in the ocean. Eventually they entered a room that had nothing but a huge tank that ran up to the ceiling which was about 10 meters high. All sorts of fish swam inside, made up of all sorts of colors, shapes, and sizes. Oddly curved and textured coral sat in the middle of it all and was as tall as the tank itself. A few empty benches surrounded the display and many children crowded around the tank as the adults stood to the side, watching their kids stare up at the beautiful creation with complete awe.   
Annie was doing the same, her mouth slightly ajar and her head tilted back so she could see the whole thing. She eventually caught herself and then stumbled back and looked around for Armin who suddenly disappeared from her side. She spotted him sitting on one of the empty benches and looking up at the tank, a slight smile still on his face. She went over and sat next to him.   
Silence still floated around them like a still balloon as they gazed up at the circular tank. Annie, having never been there before, continued gawking at the sight before her, canceling out the sound of the children’s excited laughter and the anonymous music that flowed through the speakers overhead. She canceled everything out unknowingly until she felt Armin shift beside her and murmur, “It’s stunning, isn’t it?”   
She blinked back into the real world and glanced around them. They were now the only ones in the room (excluding all the fish of course) and Annie felt a little stupid for not noticing it before. Her eyes trailed a particular sea turtle that slowly made his way around a large chunk of coral.   
“Yeah, it is,” she answered, trying to sound nonchalant.   
She heard Armin snort beside her. “Oh, come on, you gotta say more than that. I saw you gawking at it as soon as we stepped into the room.”   
She glared at him. “They’re all fish. They...all look the same.”   
He smiled. “Well, all these dull fish completely captured all your attention for a good ten minutes.”   
“Shut up.”   
He chuckled again and another moment of silence passed by them. The quietness that clouded around them wasn’t awkward or troubling, but rather peaceful and even a little comforting. They didn’t have to say anything in order to be comfortable with each other’s presence.   
Armin spoke up a while later: “There is an aquarium back in Shiganshina that I went to sometimes if I felt bad in anyway. It’s not as nice as this one but I enjoyed it all the same. The ocean is the closest I can get to another world so I can forget my problems, even just for a little while.”   
Annie’s gaze turned to him as he continued watching the fish swim before them, a tiny grin upon his thin, pink lips. “My parents died when I was thirteen and I was placed into my grandfather’s hands; that’s how I met Eren and Mikasa. The Jaegers lived down the street from my grandfather and I became quick friends with them which I was glad for. But naturally I was still upset about my parents’ sudden death and even new friends couldn’t cure my sadness. So Grandad took me to Shiganshina’s aquarium. He said if I ever needed to get away, to forget for a little while, to just let him know and he’d take me there. I was grateful for that and I took him up on his offer a few times.”   
He scratched the back of his ear and his expression twitched into one of uncertainty, but only for a moment, just a tiny moment, because he glanced back at the colorful fish and he turned back into his pleased expression. It came and went so quickly that Annie thought she imagined it all.   
“But I began going on my own when I entered high school. I didn’t want Grandad to see me come home covered in bruises and cuts and begging him to take me to the aquarium instead of a hospital.” He sighed quietly. “The kids at school didn’t really stop picking on me until I left for college and whenever they would beat me pretty bad or I just didn’t want to go home and be reminded that I was an orphan, I would go to the aquarium, sometimes staying until they closed.” He chuckled to himself. “I began knowing all the employees that worked there and they eventually figured out why I was there, which was why they kept a first aid kit behind the ticket counter. Apparently if you get beat up enough times, you can get into aquariums for free out of pity from others.”   
He laughed but Annie didn’t.   
“Why are you telling me all this?” she whispered. Something was stirring in the pit of her stomach and she couldn’t recall what it was exactly. It had a sickening feel to it like a sixth sense telling her to run away and never come back but there was something else, something light and free and breathtaking telling her to stay and listen. She decided on the latter.   
Armin peeked at her. “Because I trust you. You’re not as cruel or as dangerous as everyone else makes you out to be. You’re actually really nice.” He smiled warmly. “Most people would run away from anyone different or try to change them, but not you. You accepted me as your friend and you have no idea how grateful I am for it.”   
Annie forgot how to breathe for a moment and she turned back to the tank and slowly exhaled, struggling to appear calm. After hearing Armin’s cracked childhood, Annie’s own childhood began to float to the surface of her mind and before she even knew what she was doing, she started talking.   
“I guess, uh, I know how you felt. I had a shitty childhood as well and to be frank...I’m still not over it.” She took a quiet but shaky breath. “My, uh, mom and dad got a divorce when I was nine. And when they went to court, I was supposed to be placed into the hands of one of my parents. So they put me under my dad’s care because they didn’t trust me with my mom.” She closed her eyes for the rest of her confession, afraid she would start crying if she kept them open. “My mom was known for being the town’s drunk. She would go out to bars almost every night, drink way too much, and stumble her way back home. Mom would argue with Dad whenever she got home, saying how he was a jerk and she regretting marrying him and all that crap. But no matter how drunk or mad she got, she never tried to hit me or force me to do anything. That--That was all Dad’s fault.”   
She felt Armin’s eyes on her and her throat began to burn. “Dad didn’t get drunk but he liked working all the time and beating me whenever he got home. Mom never touched me so of course I wanted to go with her. But my dad’s well-paid job looked good and mom’s bad reputation made the court ignore everything she said. She knew what my father was doing to me and she tried to point out all my bruises to them but, of course, they believed Dad when he turned the blame on her. She was dragged away and I was dragged over to my father. I haven’t seen my mom since.”   
She rubbed at her eyes, feeling the corners getting wet. “Just like you, I kept on getting hit until I left for college. That’s why I didn’t wanna go home over winter break. Reiner and Berthold, my only friends from childhood, only found out what was going on my senior year of high school. That’s why I practice martial arts. It’s like your aquarium--it’s where I go to get away from my problems. You stare at fish, I hit punching bags. You feel calm, I feel powerful. But in the end, I guess we both feel safe.”   
Annie breathed in and exhaled deeply. She rubbed her hands together and looked down at her shoes. She wanted to look at Armin, to see what he thought of all this, but she knew she couldn’t if she wasn’t completely in control of herself. So as she avoided eye contact and continued taking deep breaths, she heard Armin shift closer to her on the bench. She felt his knee touch hers and his side hover over her and she didn’t move or resist when she felt his cool fingers brush her chin and gently turn her face towards his and his small lips press against hers.   
All the worry and all the sorrow within her seemed to vanish completely when he kissed her. It was unlike anything she ever felt before. It was scary and surprising and confusing and wonderful all at the same time. He didn’t push further but he didn’t pull away as soon as he did it either. He just held her there, and that’s all she needed. She didn’t know it before but all she really needed was to be held, to have someone to listen to her, because the calmness and peace that spread over her afterwards was unlike any other.   
When he slowly pulled away, hand still cupping her chin, he opened his big blue eyes--God, how they shone brighter than the stars--and slowly smiled. “Thank you for telling me that,” he mumbled and she could hear the true honesty and genuinity in his voice.   
Though her vision was still a bit blurry and her hands slightly shook, she smiled back; it was wide and real and it was something she hadn’t done in a very long time.   
It was the first time she felt truly safe and this new salvation didn’t require boxing gloves or a good reason to cry. It just needed her love and attention, and she gave it all to him.


	28. Three Years Later (Armin POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

Bright yellow paint was splattered everywhere; the trees, grass, even their graduation gowns were covered in it. Armin would’ve never expected to be here, in the middle of the woods with a paintball gun in his hands, as a way of celebrating his graduation from Trost University.   
It was about three hours after the end of the graduation ceremony and Armin’s whole group of friends were firing paint at each other deep within Trost Park. Connie and Sasha brought up the idea, claiming they were the best of the best because they joined paintball club back in Marley High but, from the looks of it, that might’ve been a understatement. Connie’s black tie was now completely yellow and Sasha had visible bruises on her arms and legs (but she was still laughing and shooting at whoever she could find). Now only about half the group actually wore black (and dripping yellow) graduation gowns while the other half wore slacks or short dresses. Connie and Sasha dropped out of college only about a year ago when the two had invested almost all their money into a water bottle company. At the time, Armin thought it was the stupidest thing ever--the bottles were shaped like spheres and he practically begged the duo to not put all their savings into something so lowly. But for some reason, their investment turned out to be incredibly and weirdly lucky at the very least; the water bottles were a huge success and now Connie and Sasha were rich. Armin was pretty sure even the world’s best fortune teller wouldn’t see that one coming.   
Ymir technically didn’t drop out but just didn’t enter her sophomore year. When news of Historia and Ymir’s awkward but sweet marriage proposal reached everyone’s ears, Sasha asked when the wedding would come. Historia replied by saying that she wished to continue with school and receive her bachelor's degree in business so the girls agreed to save the wedding until after Historia’s graduation (they were to be married in three weeks). Reiner dropped out about halfway through his second year, claiming that he didn’t really see the point of it all anymore. He entered college to get away from his judgemental mother and, of course, to be with Berthold. He got a job at a local gym and received a promotion which came with a great pay. Reiner enjoyed working there and Berthold supported him with his decision.   
It surprised Armin a bit but Mikasa also dropped out. Though he knew that Mikasa mainly went to college to be with him and Eren and ended up aiming for a law degree just so she could study something, he still wouldn’t think that she’d stop everything at the drop of a hat. Once she and Eren started dating, her grades lowered dramatically and Armin instantly became worried for her. He, Eren, and Mikasa all talked about it one night and she admitted how she only went for the both of them; she wanted to be with her boys. Eren told her that if she didn’t want to be in college, that if she only came for them, then it would be okay if she stopped going to class. It was clear that Eren and Mikasa planned on spending the rest of their lives together and Eren promised her that he would work hard and get his degree so that she would get the life that she deserved. It took her a couple weeks to decide but she eventually dropped out and starting living in an apartment with him, Eren, and Annie.   
Jean also dropped out but Armin saw that coming ever since the first day he saw him.   
And so now he was hiding behind a tree with Eren, observing the battlefield around them.   
Connie and Sasha were unpredictable; sometimes they worked as a team but sometimes they would blast mercilessly at each other (they also had the most paint on them). Right now they were surrounding Jean and firing away, laughing like every villian from a cheesy movie. Jean was obviously pissed off and tried shooting back but he was being shot everywhere and could barely hold onto his own gun. Marco stood near in his gown and was laughing along with Connie and Sasha but was also attempting to free Jean from his misery. Berthold and Historia were seen to the far right of Eren and Armin’s hiding spot, playfully shooting each other, yellow paint decorating them both. Even though they were clearly having fun, both Reiner and Ymir came rushing in and fired their guns as fast as they could. Armin chuckled to himself. It looked like two huge grizzly bears trying to protect their babies--by using paintball guns that is. Mikasa and Annie were probably taking the game a little too seriously, however. They were silent and quick and showed no mercy. Annie’s cap was shot off her head a while back and Mikasa’s black dress had so many yellow dots on it, it looked like a part of the pattern.   
“Dude,” Eren mumbled into Armin’s ear, “I don’t know how to react.”   
“To what?”   
“To Annie and Mikasa fighting. I mean, they’re our girlfriends; usually when girls fight, they like slap and scratch at each other but they...might actually kill one another. And-And I don’t know what to do about that.”   
Armin cringed, feeling the exact same way. “I don’t, either.”   
“Like that’d be super badass but if your girlfriend kills my girlfriend, I have to kill you.”   
He looked back at him. “What are you saying?”   
Eren grinned and said, “Annie is kicking Mikasa’s ass so that means--” Eren placed the tip of his gun against Armin’s ribs and fired. The pain that came afterwards was temporary but effective. He yelped and stepped away from Eren, clutching his side as the fresh paint stuck itself to his palm. Eren laughed and finished, “--I have to kill you.”   
“Dude, come on!” Armin laughed and aimed for Eren’s leg but missed by an inch and ended up running away with his best friend after him, his gun firing off everywhere.   
Armin’s only objection at this point was to get away from Eren and Eren was fast when determined so he tried to lose him through the small crowd before them. He bumped against Sasha and when she glanced at him, he pointed at Eren. Sasha, being the amazing friend she was that reminded Armin to thank her later, immediately whipped around and shot Eren in the shoulder. Connie joined in and Armin went for his escape but unfortunately forgot about Jean who had reached out and grabbed him by the back of his collar and pulled him back like he weighed nothing more than a rag doll.   
Jean, fed up with being Sasha and Connie’s personal punching bag, fired at Armin’s arms for no apparent reason. Armin grunted and struggled to get out of Jean’s grasp on him but he knew it was useless--he and Eren went to the gym almost every night! Marco, bless his soul, stepped forward and told Jean to let go of him (though he was laughing so hard, tears were pooling at the corners of his eyes). Jean huffed and dropped him to the ground and Armin scurried away like the mouse Jean always called him. Eren somehow escaped from Sasha and Connie as well and started chasing Armin again thus leading Sasha and Connie to waste the rest of their paint on Jean.   
Armin tried to run pass Reiner, Berthold, Historia, and Ymir but accidentally tripped over Reiner’s ankle. He landed on his knees but was quick to pick himself back up. Reiner, probably for shits and giggles, shot Armin in between his shoulder blades and, seeing Eren coming, shot his friend in the thigh. Both boys stumbled and Reiner laughed though his victory was short-lived; Ymir fired at his jaw and Armin paused to make sure he was okay. Reiner narrowed his eyes and focused on the freckled girl once again. Armin smiled and then ran once he made eye contact with Eren’s pained but determined face.   
Eventually he came within hearing shot of Mikasa and Annie. With a huge grin on his lips, he started waving his arms, shouting, “Annie, stop shooting at Mikasa!”   
Annie, her hair now loose from the undoing of her typical messy bun, stopped and glanced his way, alert and confused. Mikasa also paused but kept the tip of her gun aimed at Annie’s head which Armin had a problem with.   
“Eren’s trying to--” he started but Eren finished with a loud, “--doing whatever the hell he wants!”   
He whooped as he unleashed a load of yellow paint into the air. He then dropped his gun and moved over to Mikasa and swept her off her feet--literally. Mikasa, like Armin, suddenly didn’t know what was going on anymore but broke into an instant smile and wrapped her arms around his neck as Eren screamed in happiness, “We’re almost there! Our future is almost here!” He spun around and strolled around the paint-covered trees like Mikasa was the ultimate prize that he just won.   
Annie watched them spin in contentment and then glance at Armin, confused. Armin also dropped his gun (mainly due to exhaustion) and shook his head, laughing but breathless. “He’s lost it,” he managed. “He’s too happy and now he’s unpredictable.”   
Annie’s own lips slightly tilted up in amusement. “What about you? Are you okay?”   
He wasn’t sure if she was talking about his physical condition or his mental state but he answered with the first thing that came to his mind: “Annie, I love you so much.”   
She giggled as he rested his forehead against her shoulder, still breathless. “Did you get shot in the head because that’s not what I asked,” she replied, running her hands through his hair as if searching for bumps and bruises.   
He then hugged her tightly, smiling into her collarbone. “I feel like I’m on top of the world with you.”   
He felt her smile, her wonderful and pure smile, into his hair and heard her say, “I think you did hit your head, Sapling.” And then he felt her lips gently press against his temple.   
God, it couldn’t get any better than this.


	29. Other Plans (Jean POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

“How do I look?” Marco chirps from the doorway of our bedroom. I turn away from my reflection in the microwave where I’m trying to tie this stupid tie and look at Marco dressed in a navy suit and black collared shirt with the top two buttons undone. He’s combed his hair to the side and looks at me with a subtle grin.   
Oh damn.  
I go to say something sardonic but my mouth opens and nothing comes out. He notices my momentary rebooting and a subtle blush brightens his freckled cheeks.   
Fuck.   
“You look great, Marco,” Bert says with a sweet smile from his place on the couch in front of the TV. Marco purses his lips and scratches behind his ear, clearly a bit flustered.   
“Told ya he’d be hot in navy,” Reiner grunts coming out of the bathroom. Marco’s blush reddens further and he shuffles his way over to me to try and hide from Reiner’s whooping.   
Marco takes the wad of dark gray tie from my clumsy paws and starts to tie it himself. He bites his bottom lip in concentration, I tell my dick to shut the fuck up and not to ruin the moment.   
I steal a kiss from his puckered bottom lip. “You look fantastic,” I murmur.   
He smiles a bit and mumbles, “Thanks.”   
I glance down at a watch I’m not wearing, “How much time do we have?”   
Marco looks up at the microwave clock. “The wedding starts in like an hour and a half.”   
I smirk and kiss him again, this time a little more enticing. He tries to continue to tie my tie as I kiss him but I don’t think it’s working. I part far enough to whisper against his skin, “I think that’s enough time, don’t you?” I nimble at his bottom lip.   
He pulls back trying to be serious over a grin he can’t hide. “We are not going to do it before Ymir and Historia’s wedding, Jean, geez.”   
“C’mon,” I whine into the crook of his neck.   
He giggles and pushes me away. “You really are crazy, Jean Kirstein,” he says tightening the tie a little too much around my throat. “Besides you’re supposed to leave early, you haven’t forgotten that you’re a groomsmen, have you?”   
I loosen the tie and step back a bit disappointed. “Yeah yeah, I know.”   
He reaches back out and I think he’s going to pull me into another kiss but instead he adjusts the pastel orange handkerchief in my breast pocket. I’m not even surprised anymore. Marco’s need to make sure things are parallel with other things has made me start straightening shit around the apartment before he even gets home.   
Reiner slides around us to get to the fridge, he rummages to pull out one of his weird vegan green juices and makes a show of taking a proud swig. I look at him with my nose scrunched and my lips pursed, making it obvious that I’m judging him.   
He shakes his head licking the foul slime from his lips. “Don’t give me that look, I made your boyfriend hot,” he says nodding towards Marco beside me who’s still making small adjustments to my clothing. He freezes and tries to hold in a blush.   
I worm my arm around his waist and nuzzle my nose into his hair, “Not for long,” I hum. Marco’s blush is so strong that I can feel the heat coming from his face.   
He pulls away and puts his hands up to his cheeks, “I’m hiding in the bathroom,” he mumbles walking past Reiner and I. ‘Not for long’ was meant to be about the boyfriend thing, not the hot thing. I don’t know if Marco noticed the difference.   
I may or may not have been planting subtle hints about me proposing to Marco. I’ve been talking to Reiner about it a lot lately. Reiner had proposed to Bert 6 months back at Christmas. Bert now wears a gold wedding band on a thin chain around his neck. Their wedding is planned to happen in a few months and Reiner somehow thought it was good idea to make me his best man.   
I asked Reiner about how he proposed when we went tux shopping with Ymir two months ago.  
-  
Reiner talks about Bert with a shameless smile and sparkle to his eyes. His aura completely changes when he talks about his fiance, he’s so light and happy and utterly in love. Two years ago I would’ve poked one of his flushed cheeks and called him a schmuck for letting himself be so vulnerable to such a stupid thing like love. That is until I too fell in love. Funny how things work out like that.   
We sit in the middle of a black and white tux shop surrounded by clothes that are way too expensive for me. Ever since I dropped out of school at the end of sophomore year, Marco, Reiner, Bert, and I have been living in a two bedroom apartment together. It’s been interesting to say the least. The best part is getting to spend the night with my best friend everyday. But the place is small, it’s all we can afford. Bert and Marco had been in school this entire time. The amount of money the two of them make from their internships is next to none. Bert’s graduated and done with school and in sight for a well paid accounting job. Marco has at least four to six more years of school ahead of him. I have to encourage him to keep his head up and that this is what he’s wanted to do for most of his life.   
Marco got through PreMed with flying colors, he’s got some scholarships for graduate school and I couldn’t be prouder of him. Although no matter what I tell him he constantly feels bad for not having a job and help pay for the apartment. I don’t want him to worry about it, school alone is hell and any medical major is worse, I don’t want to put any more pressure on him than he already has.   
Reiner makes the most money out of the four of us. He got a part time job at a gym nearby when he dropped out of school the semester before I did. He was quickly promoted to full time and is now one of the managers working almost fifty hours a week. He says that once Bert finds a stable job he wants to open his own gym. I, on the other hand, make the second most amount of money. Though I work two part time jobs, one is at a custom frames and art place where I frame rich peoples shitty art thirty five hours a week, the other is at Reiner’s gym as a receptionist. I hate both jobs, but I make enough to support Marco and I’s half of the rent plus a little extra, so I’ll stick with it. Plus I get a free gym membership.   
I asked Reiner twenty minutes ago why he proposed to Bert the way he did and he’s been on a rant about Bert ever since. Apparently it was so romantic that Reiner feels the need to tell me every little detail of what happened for a second time. I don’t interrupt him, I’m too stuck in my own head with how I’m gonna propose to Marco. I’ve been thinking about it for months. I just can’t wrap my head around how unlike-me it all is. First of all, I thought I’d die alone. That’s it. That was the plan. And now I love Marco and he loves me and I’m just a ball of anxiety with how to go about this.   
“In the end, it doesn’t really matter how you do it,” Reiner says staring off at a rack of clothes, lost in thought, “He’ll appreciate that you had the balls to ask him anyway.”   
I stare down the hall where the proper guy with the suave haircut and glasses took Ymir to take her measurements. I could already tell Ymir hated him. She didn’t even want to do this, it was Historia’s idea that Reiner supported, and I was just dragged into it. Although Connie is supposed to be here and I’m pissed that I didn’t get the idea to skip out like him.   
“Did you tell him about the trip yet?” Reiner asks snapping us both out of our thoughts.   
I scratch the back of my head where my hair’s been growing out. I haven’t had the time to get a haircut in a while, Marco likes it long anyway. “No, not yet, I figured I’d tell him at graduation.”   
He nods. I’ve been talking with Reiner for a while about the whole proposal thing, but for the past two years I’ve been saving up to take Marco to France for a Graduation/Birthday present. His birthday is June 16th so I figured to be there for the week of his birthday. I also figured to propose to him then. The thought sends me into a fit of clammy hands and nervous lip biting.   
Ymir steps out of a curtain closed dressing room with a bored expression on her face and a tux that makes her look like she’s going to a high school choir concert. She doesn’t say anything, she just looks at us sitting on a faux leather couch with a disapproving look on her face. Reiner instantly jumps up.   
“Yeah that’s a no from me,” he says grabbing Ymir’s arm and hauling her to a rack of suits that all look the same. “That guy has no taste.”  
He starts digging through the suits and mumbling to himself and making glances at Ymir. He picks a half a dozen out and tosses them at Ymir sending her back to the dressing room. Ymir curses under her breath about how gay Reiner is and I can’t help but to agree with her.   
“Hey horse face,” Reiner calls from the rack of suits. Yeah, the childhood nickname that I thought stopped once I got into high school has made its comeback all thanks to your friendly neighborhood idiot: Eren Jaeger.   
I grit my teeth and stomp over to the muscle man. “Don’t call me that,” I grumble.   
He ignores me. “Try this on,” he says shoving a light gray suit at me.   
“What? No, this isn’t my wedding,” I say shoving the suit back.   
“Historia told me to pick out something for the groomsmen, she gave me a swatch card and everything,” he says pulling the same suit in his size from the rack.   
I roll my eyes and take the suit turning to a dressing room to shrug it on for Historia’s sake.   
“Wa-wait,” Reiner says again. I actually groan this time. He holds up a navy suit and waves it in my face. “This’ll look good on Marco, take it.”  
I give him a confused look. “How do you even know his size?”   
Reiner looks up at me and winks. I have the instinct to punch him but instead I shuffle to a dressing room to get away from him. So weird.   
“So Jean, I was thinking about getting ordained,” Reiner says from the dressing room next to me.   
I shake my head trying to come up with some rationalization to why Reiner says these kinds of things. “I don’t care, Reiner,” I mutter.   
“Yeah but I thought that I could marry you and Marco,” he calls again. My heart freezes.   
“Wait, you guys are getting married now too?” I hear Ymir call on the opposite side of the dressing room.   
My whole body is frozen. I immediately hate myself for being friends with Reiner.   
“No-”   
“Jean and Marco are getting married?” I hear Connie from out of nowhere. “Congrats man, when did that happen?” Connie whips the curtain back from my dressing room. Him and Ymir feasting their eyes on me wearing only light gray trousers and the look of fear.   
Reiner pokes his head around too, already dressed somehow. I can’t say anything, I’m stuck frozen with one arm in the sleeve of a white dress shirt.   
“Oh no, they’re not engaged yet, but soon,” Reiner says like I’m not a deer in headlights. Oh, I hate him. Ymir and Connie shrug simultaneously.   
Reiner turns and gives Ymir a once over, shakes his head and says, “Nope, try another one.”   
She groans and stomps back into the dressing room. He turns back to me and holds up the blazer to my bare chest, tilting his head to side and nodding once. “This’ll do.”   
-  
“Alright, I’m leaving then,” Reiner says, grabbing his keys from a bowl on the counter. He walks over to Bert and bends to give him a quick kiss before he leaves. “You guys should be there at least a half hour before or Historia will be a mess,” he says to Bert and I. The three of us wear matching suits and I feel like someone is gonna break out into a choreographed song and dance that I don’t know. (It’s happened before, I have no idea where Bert and Reiner find the time to do that shit.) The three of us are in the wedding plus Connie. Marco was the lucky one that didn’t have to wear a stupid matching suit. Reiner’s leaving first though because he’s the best man. He takes this wedding stuff way too seriously.   
“Yeah yeah we’ll be there,” I mumble turning back to the microwave and adjusting my tie. I hear Bert and Reiner exchange some ‘I love you’s and Reiner leaves.   
From behind me, Marco weaves his arms around my waist and I hadn’t noticed that he came out of the bathroom. He rests his chin on my shoulder and smiles at me as I fix my hair.   
I look at him with his pretty doe eyes in the reflection. “What?”  
He smiles and kisses my neck below my ear tenderly. “We’ll do this one day, right?” he mumbles into my neck.   
My heart thrums and I try to play it cool. I turn in his hold and face him, his cheeks still tinged with pink. I kiss him back properly, “That’s up to you.”   
He smiles and leans further into the kiss. My pulse is relentless.   
He pulls back and looks like he wants to say something but only glances at Bert who’s scrolling through something on his phone. “You guys should probably go.”   
I sigh, not really wanting him to have said that. He turns back to me and lifts my chin with his finger. “But don’t think this conversation is over,” he says with a raise of an eyebrow that he usually saves for more provoking moments. He gives me one last kiss and sends me off, pushing me out of the kitchen before I tackle him right then and there.   
I rub my hands down my thighs and call Bert over. We leave after I get one last glance at Marco looking stunning in his navy suit and adjusting his collar subconsciously. I smile to myself and hop down the stairs of the apartment complex to the car with Bert trailing behind me saying something about how excited he is. All I can think is that this is just the start of a whole slew of weddings, including mine.


	30. Looking Back (Eren POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: blueTshirts**

“This is ridiculous, what’s even the point of these things?” I grumble, folding the little square of white cloth that’s supposed to go into my breast pocket. I’ve watched two YouTube videos and am now trying to follow a pictured diagram.   
Armin chuckles to himself and comes up behind me. “You trying to fold a swan?” he grins. I send him a glare over my shoulder and go back to cursing at the cloth.  
“Shut up, I’m in medical school this shouldn’t be so hard,” I say, “These pocket napkins are useless anyway, you’re not even supposed to use them.”   
Armin makes another stupid noise behind me. “The what?”   
I growl out a sigh and stand abruptly. “These stupid pocket napkins or whatever they’re called,” I say throwing the square at his face. It floats weightlessly through the air and gently caresses his smug face, somehow it makes me even angrier. “You do it,” I hiss.  
Armin snorts grabbing the fabric. “That’s pretty close but most like to call it a handkerchief,” he says.   
I roll my eyes and give him a dismissive hand wave already bored with the conversation. “Yeah yeah whatever.” I shuffle over to Mikasa in the living room who’s buckling her pastel pink heels on. It’s a gift whenever Mikasa dresses up. Sometimes whenever I get a break from school I’ll make up an excuse to go somewhere fancy just so she wears a simple sundress or flowy skirt. She’s so beautiful and she’s been working so much lately it’s hard for the both of us to have some down time with each other.   
I plop down next to her on the couch and wrap my arms around her waist. I nuzzle my face into her bare shoulder and groan in the back of my throat. I take a deep breath of her scent in, I’ve learned that it calms me.   
She leans over and softly kisses the top of my head as she continues to lace up her shoes. They look complicated, I don’t know how girls do it.   
“The pocket napkin is being mean to Eren,” Armin calls from the kitchen with the folded piece of cloth in his hands. He walks up to me and stuffs the handkerchief into my breast pocket giving me his polite smile that would fool anyone else into thinking that he was being genuine. I know he’s just being an ass. I shove him away and go back to clinging onto Mikasa like a child.   
“Armin,” I hear Annie call from their bedroom. I glance up and see Annie has been replaced by an entirely new person. This new person is wearing the exact same dress as Mikasa expect in a soft orange rather than the pastel pink. Her blonde hair brushes an inch past her shoulders and is tucked behind one ear. She’s holding her dress by crossing her arms in front of her. Armin comes up and she turns, Armin zips the rest of the dress up for her. I stare that person that is supposed to be Annie longer than I probably should, but she’s so distracting, I can’t believe it. No bun + No sweatshirt = No Annie.   
She turns back around and Armin traces wear her hair is tucked behind her ear with his fingertips and leans down to kiss her. I notice Annie’s arms as she gently rests her hand on Armin’s hip. She’s ripped. Usually her arms are covered so I can pretend that Annie doesn’t scare me, but when she’s flashing the gun show I realize that she’s been beating people up from years now, and she hasn’t even been coming to gym with Jean and I.  
“Annie’s packed,” I whisper into Mikasa’s shoulder. Mikasa looks to the couple then back down at her shoes.   
“She’s an expert martial artist, Eren,” she hums.   
“Yeah I know, I just never realized,” I shrug dropping my eyes to Mikasa fiddling with her shoes. “Do you need help, or..?”   
“I got it.” I shake my head and kneel on the ground in front of her, deciding to try and help her with the tiny buckles on her shoes without her asking for it. I’ve known Mikasa for a very long time, long enough to know that she will never ever ask for help.  
I take another glance at the blonde duo. Annie makes Armin look like a lanky teenager. When Armin first told me that they were dating a few years ago, I thought it wouldn’t last. It just didn’t seem like a good fit. I mean, I was supportive and all, I wanted him to have a girlfriend but I never thought he’d choose her. But here they are, three years and still going strong. Somehow Annie has even tolerated me for Armin. Us four live in the same apartment complex as The Gays. There’s actually a lot of people from school here. It’s kinda like a midway house for people graduating and trying to find a job.   
Mikasa and Annie have full time jobs at the nearby mall, neither of them talk about it very much. Armin and I just finished our bachelors degrees a few weeks ago. Although Armin now already has a half dozen job offers and I get to go to school for another four years. Yay.  
I finish lacing up Mikasa’s death trap of shoes and plop back down on the couch next to her. I nuzzle my face in her silky hair that she’s been growing out, it reaches a few inches past her collar bones. Most of the time I can tell she hates it because it gets in her way whenever she works but I like it.   
The only people that have the pleasure to go back to school next semester is Marco, Mina, and I. All of the medical profession. We all also chose Trost for our graduate school. I only chose it because this is where my dad went. Marco’s staying because he got a shitload of scholarships, and I think Mina just wants to stick around with everyone. Everyone else will be getting jobs, getting married, and getting a life. Ymir and Historia plan on going on a big trip to Europe after their wedding that they don’t have an end date for. Whatever, as long as they’re happy I guess.   
Reiner and Bert are planning to have their wedding in August or September. My guess is that Jean and Marco are going to get engaged next. Everytime Jean and I go to the gym together he talks about “this problem his friend has.” Which is Jean-ish for “I have a problem but I’m too pussy to admit it.” Also when he first started saying it like that I got confused because I literally know all of his friends. But apparently the duo are going on this really nice trip Jean’s been saving up for to take Marco to France, and I’m pretty sure Jean is too impatient to wait for Marco to finish school.   
I think about if Mikasa and I would ever go on a trip like that. I’m always so busy. Where would we go anyway? Some place warm probably. Some place where we can just lay in bed all day and watch the sun rise and set over and over again. I think she’d like that, to get away and alone for a while. I think I’d like that too.   
Mikasa and Annie wear matching dresses because they’re both bridesmaids. It seems odd to me. I mean, we’re good friends with Historia and Ymir but I didn’t think we were that close. My theory is that the two of them don’t have any other closer friends so they had to settle for us.   
“You guys ready?” I hear Armin’s voice and a jingle of keys. “The girls have to be there early or Historia will have our heads.”  
I open my eyes and hadn’t realized that I started to fall asleep on Mikasa. She looks down at me with a soft smile, I don’t understand how she can look at me like that. I love it, but I don’t understand. If I were her I’d be smacking my own head to get the fuck up.   
I sit up and give her a quick kiss. Moments later we’re driving to this fancy schmancy hotel in the city that somehow Historia was able to afford as their venue. The sun is bright and happy like it’s looking down on the wedding and blessing the couple with clear skies and a cool breeze. Armin pulls into a parking spot next to a car that you’d be able to tell was Jean’s even if you’ve never seen Jean’s car before. It just screams “my rich parents bought me an expensive car because they could and I don’t do shit to take care of it.”  
We climb out of the car, I give Mikasa my hand to help her out but she ignores it, so I just grab her whole fist in efforts to be romantic. She smiles and gives in. I’m not great at the romantic thing, I’m barely any good at being a boyfriend, but Mikasa takes all my efforts and sputtering words like they’re something to light up her soul. She loves me undeniably, and I her, so we both know what idea I’m trying to get at whenever I do stupid things like that.   
We walk across the parking lot, the sun still being unusually lovable. At the entrance there are two glass door with giant stone vases that hold pastel orange and pink flowers that match Annie and Mikasa’s dresses. Next to one of the vases, I notice a horse and a giraffe just idling by like they broke out of the zoo just for the girls wedding. I blink a few times a realize it’s just Jean and Bert exchanging a few words. More like Bert’s talking with a subtle smile to a zoned out Jean with a cigarette between his lips.   
“Hey horse face!” I call to Jean. He blinks up and squints in my direction through the sun. At least I think he’s squinting, maybe he’s glaring. Mikasa squeezes my arm and says my name in the way were she’s trying to stop me from doing something stupid.  
Jean picks the cigarette from his lips and flicks at the end letting the burning ash drift to the ground. He picked the habit back up when things started to get at little more stressed in his life. He hates his jobs, he’s worried about Marco, he’s constantly thinking about proposing, he’s scared what’s going to happen when Reiner and Bert move out, and yada yada. He’s sputtered the whole deal to me while he was drenched in sweat and heaving in breaths and beating up a plastic bag. I actually told Marco that Jean was smoking again because it doesn’t take being a PreMed major to tell you that smoking is bad for you. Jean punched me in the face for it, but at least he’s stopped doing it so much, or at least when Marco’s not around. I’ll secretly wait for the moment when Marco can smell the smoke off of Jean’s clothes and smack him for it.   
“Hey guys!” Bert says with a wide smile on his face. He goes and hugs Annie immediately, to which Annie just stands there.   
“What’re you guys doing?” I ask.   
Jean takes his last drag of the cigarette and pitches it at the asphalt. “Reiner told us to stay out here, Ymir’s flipping out or something,” he says as smoke rolls from his mouth and nose.   
“What’s wrong?” Armin asks. The peacemaker, once again, stepping up to the pedestal to help any victim in need. Jean shrugs coldly, maybe Armin’s forgot that when people are in need Jean usually likes to turn the other way.   
“I think it’s just wedding day jitters,” Bert says playing with the wedding band on his necklace, “Reiner said that she really wants to see Historia but he won’t let her.”   
I nod and remind myself not to make Reiner my best man for my wedding.   
“Sasha went up a while ago though, it’ll probably make Historia feel better if you guys go up,” Jean says to Mikasa and Annie. The two girls make a side glance at each other over Armin and I. They’ve formed some kind of friendship that I wouldn’t really describe as a friendship if they were normal people. For the two of them, they’re more like partnered assassins. They don’t actually talk to each other much, they mostly only exchange glances like they have some kind of telepathy.  
The duo step away from Armin and I and through the glass doors. My eyes linger on Mikasa as her back his turned from me.   
“This is a big moment,” I hear Armin say quietly beside me. We all perk up at the subtle sound.   
“What’s a big moment?” Jean asks harshly on my opposite side. I squint at him a bit. I don’t know if he’s trying to sound angry all the time, but he constantly talks like he’s trying to start a fight or like a teenage girl who won’t tell you what’s wrong when you ask. Once again I don’t know why Marco settled for him.   
Armin’s looking up at the blue sky wisped with cotton clouds with a subtle smile on his face. He’s also let his hair grow out. For a short period time he was going to cut it but I told him that he’d look stupid if he did. Now he regularly wears it with half of it tied up. The style is subtly feminine but he somehow makes it look good with the golden locks glowing in the sunlight.   
His eyes leave the sky and drop to Jean, “Ymir and Historia’s wedding, it’s a big deal,” he looks between Jean, Bert, and I. The look in his eyes gives me an uneasy feeling that he’s gonna start a speech. “We’re finally growing up, this is a big step in our lives.”   
I was right.  
“Not only are Ymir and Historia starting the rest of their lives together, but we’re all on the same path.” He nods at Berthold, “Reiner and Berthold are getting married at the end of the summer,” he looks to me, “You’re going to graduate school and found your dream girl. I’ve finished school and found love. Sasha and Connie are now able to live their lives without working another day-”  
“What about me?” Jean asks like a puppy that hasn’t been looked at in thirty seconds.   
“You have a free gym membership,” I say clapping a hand on his shoulder. He glares at me.   
“No Jean, you found Marco and will be engaged in a month, and he’s going into graduate school as well,” Armin says before Jean punches me in the face. “But really, we’ve all come such a long way from being a bunch of freshman in college worried about childhood relationships and how to make new friends. I mean, look at us.”   
Armin’s right. We have come a long way. Did he have to say it like he’s writing a reflection for an end of semester course? No. But that’s just who he is. The first day of college I threw myself into Armin’s dorm and was smacked in the face with Jean’s unexpected presence. That same night Jean met Marco. Later that month Armin met Annie. And it all spun out from there.   
And now here we are, all standing together for our friends wedding like it’s the most normal thing to us. Our lives are starting, we’re moving forward, becoming real people with real lives. Who would’ve ever thought that a bunch of dumb kids that went to the same university would end up like this?


	31. Pink, Purple, and Orange (Sasha POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

With Historia’s head bobbing from side to side in excitement, Sasha found it extremely difficult to create the loose braid that ran down her bare back, but now even more so as she struggled to tuck the tiny white alyssum flowers into her perfectly knotted hair. Every time she would look back at her or out the window or down at her puffy dress, Sasha would stick the flower into the wrong place or miss her hair entirely and squish it against her shoulder blade; she would groan in mild frustration and tell the bride to sit still.   
“I’m sorry,” Historia giggled, “I’m just so excited!”   
“I know but--”   
Her head quickly dodged to the right as she peered out the window. “Hey, I see Annie and Mikasa coming up! Omigosh, they look so pretty!”   
Sasha pressed the tiny bud into Historia’s shoulder again. She gasped but pursed her lips together tightly before she blurted out any curse word and then lightly began hitting Historia with the flower. “I said sit still!”   
She laughed as she tried to cower away from her playful hits, settling back into the stiff chair. “Okay, okay! I’m sorry!”   
She blew a strand of her hair out of her eyes and then repositioned the alyssum into a crease in Historia’s golden blond hair.   
Sasha thought anyone was a fool if they didn’t think Historia looked stunning, especially today. The tiny goddess was sporting a big princess style dress, all the white tulle and fabric clouding around her like a balloon; Sasha thought the dress would completely swallow up Historia if it could. A pearl necklace decorated her collarbone and sparkly studs were stuck in her earlobes. Sasha, like her hair, had also brushed on Historia’s makeup, complete with mascara that stretched out her already long eyelashes, a light rouge on the apples of her cheeks, and a shiny pink lip-gloss that made her smile seem brighter. The only thing that was missing was the small tiara with the veil attached to it to sit upon her head.   
Sasha, on the other hand, wore the maid of honor dress Historia had picked out for her which was a long, silky, and sleeveless robe that was the color of a light lavender. She hardly wore dresses so she was still trying to get used to the lack of sleeves and learning how to run without tripping over her skirt. All of her reddish-brown hair was pushed onto her left shoulder and it felt stiff from all the hairspray she splashed upon it to keep it there. Her makeup was similar to Historia’s but she added purple eyeshadow to help make the color of the dress stand out.   
In short they both looked drop dead gorgeous.   
“I can’t believe this is happening,” Historia was saying, clutching her hands together as if she could explode in a fiery burst of fireworks in any moment. “I’m gonna marry Ymir!”   
Sasha, even if she was a little annoyed, smiled widely at Historia’s happiness. “How does it feel, knowing you’re gonna spend the rest of your life with her?”   
She held her own face in her hands and smiled dreamily, clearly a girl in love. “Like magic. Like nothing I’ve ever felt before.”   
Sasha giggled. Historia’s smile suddenly faded and she let her hands drop into her lap, her dress bouncing like a drop of water falling into a teacup. “Oh, why aren’t you and Connie getting married?”  
The question caught Sasha off guard, to say the least. She blinked at Historia in the mirror and frowned. “Huh?”   
“Come on, Sash! You guys are living together, working together, and I know I saw you guys holding hands when we went bowling the other day.”   
She rolled her eyes dramatically and pushed another flower into her hair. “Girl, I told you before: I love Connie but I’m not in love with him. I like being with him but not like being with him. And I like holding his hand but I don’t like holding his hand.” She looked at her back in the mirror. “You know what I mean?”   
Historia huffed and crossed her arms like a child pouting. “Asexual people can marry too.”   
Sasha’s nose scrunched at that word: asexual. It’s technically what she and Connie were but she still didn’t like being called that. She just like hanging out with him like going to the movies and laughing at all the ridiculous previews or going to amusement parks and riding every roller coaster before indulging themselves in cotton candy or just staying at home and seeing how many M&Ms they can stack on top of each other before the wobbly pile would collapse. No sappy romance, no gross making out, no big plans for marriage or children. Just Connie by her side was enough to make her happy.   
“I guess,” she answered slowly, “but I’m not into all that stuff.”   
“Into marriage?”  
“Yeah, or kids or anything. I like those suckers sometimes but I’d really hate it if they lived in the same house with me.”   
“Why?”   
“Because kids eat everything they set their eyes on. You know perfectly well what happens if someone eats my stuff.”   
Historia grinned. “Every table, chair, and fridge would be turned over and some obnoxious noise will come out of your mouth like a police siren.”   
She aimed a spare flower at her in the mirror. “Exactly, so no kids for me.”  
Historia spread out the tulle on her puffy skirt. “It’s just you and Connie are so cute together. Watching you guys make me smile.”   
“I think you’re shipping the wrong couple, Historia.”   
“I can still dream if I wanna!”   
Both girls laughed as a light knock sounded on the hotel room’s door. Historia gasped in delight. “It’s them! Annie and Mikasa.”   
She went to stand up but Sasha pushed her back into the chair. “No, no, I got it.” She began jogging over to the door, stumbled in her dress, mumbled “Fuck” under her breath, and then gathered her flowy dress in her hands before continuing to jog. She opened the door and grinned at the two stoic girls in their pink and orange dresses.   
“Hey, guys. C’mon in. I’m almost done prepping Historia up.”   
They thanked her and then strolled into the room, Sasha closing the door behind them. Upon sight, Historia gasped again and gushed at how beautiful Annie and Mikasa looked. Sasha had to hold back a laugh; the expressionless girls looked uncomfortable in their pastel dresses, probably more than Sasha did. They tried to compliment Historia back (it sounded more like a question: “You look good too?”) but she blushed and thanked their attempted kindness. Sasha decided not to question it; it was her wedding day--you could throw a pie in her face and she’d still be okay with it.   
For the next half hour, the girls chatted with each other, starting with topics like the girly colors Historia picked for the wedding and then ending up with where the closest Chik-fil-a was located (Sasha made a mental note to stop there between the wedding and the reception). It was weird but nice, talking to one another like old friends. Sasha can’t remember the last time they all did this. They had separated from each other slowly when people began dropping out of college like she and Mikasa but they all lived or worked relatively close to everyone so it wasn’t a big deal to go out together somewhere. Sasha thought about the process of growing up, about how quickly lives changed once they married or finished school or began a new job or whatever. It was sad and it was fast but it was also fun, really fun.   
In the middle of a conversation that involved a cheerleading competition going wrong and Historia ending up with a sprained ankle, Sasha got a text from Reiner: IT’S TIME.   
A little spark of nervousness tugged at her chest but subsided some when she read the message aloud to the girls.   
Historia froze just for the smallest moment; her eyes expanded and her hands gripped at her skirt. But then she relaxed and replaced any sign of anxiousness with her brilliant smile and then reached for her handmade bouquet. The flowers matched Sasha, Annie, and Mikasa’s dresses perfectly and were all mixed together; it reminded Sasha of a complicated watercolor painting. She brought the flowers to her chin and smiled into them, exchanging looks with each girl before repeating after Sasha, “It’s time.”


	32. It's Time (Ymir POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

“Would you stop freaking out already?” Reiner groaned. “My arms are getting tired.”   
“Then let go of me, you fuckin’ walrus!” Ymir fired back.   
Ymir was struggling to release herself from Reiner’s iron hold on her, his thick arms wrapped tightly around her waist with her back pressed into his chest. She punched his arms and tried to kick him in the groin but she should’ve known better; the boulder of a man was twice her size, manages a fuckin’ gym, and excersises every chance he gets. She blamed herself mainly but she also blamed Reiner’s lack of pity for her right now.   
“Just let me see Historia!” she demanded, wiggling in the air like a worm on a hook. “This is my wedding too! I can do what I want!”   
“Not necessarily,” Reiner sighed. “Don’t you know it’s bad luck to see your bride before the ceremony? Now knock it off--you’re wrinkling your suit.”   
“Fuck you and this suit!” She leaned down and sank her teeth into his forearm; she wanted to tear through the fabric of Reiner’s tux but the material was much too thick and rough. Luckily she got her point across as Reiner muttered “Shit!” under his breath and dropped Ymir.   
Stumbling, she ran over to the door of the hotel room and went to rotate the shiny doorknob, but Reiner was much too quick for her. He grabbed her waist again but this time threw her over his shoulder and strolled carelessly back into the room like she weighed nothing more than a duffel bag.   
She groaned loudly and started flailing again, pounding her fists against his shoulder blades. “Motherfucker! Let me go!”   
“Ain’t no way I’m letting you go anywhere with that attitude or with those shark teeth. Geez, woman, do you floss your teeth with a razor blade or what?” He examined his black suit for bite marks.   
“I’mma shove razor blades down your pants if you don’t let me go! I need to see her, goddammit!”   
“Why? Why do you need to see her so bad?”  
She growled. She knew that voice--it was the tone of an annoyed father trying to console his bratty kid. He always talked like that whenever she got into a fight with him (which was pretty often). “Cause I need to, alright? It’s none of your business.”   
“I’m your best man--of course it’s my business. Now why do you need to see her?”   
She huffed and made her body go limp, burying her face in her hands. “Ugh, I hate you so much. I’m never gonna look back fondly on my wedding day because somehow you became my best man and enjoy being a pain in my ass.”   
“Oh, cry me a river, Ymir. You know we’re best friends.”   
“Only in my worst nightmares.”   
“Yeah, sure.” He placed his free fist on his hip. “What’s gotten into you? You were doing just fine a moment ago.”   
She sighed lowly. “I just need her. You wouldn’t understand, jackass.”   
“Hey, I’m engaged, you know. I think I know what you mean when you say you need someone.”   
She glared at the back of his blond head, wanting to say something snarky back but nothing came out of her mouth. She slammed her face back into her hands and moaned into them.   
“Tell me what’s got you so freaked out,” Reiner tried again. “It’s no good for the groom to be suffering from a panic attack a few minutes before the ceremony.”   
A heavy moment passed as she thought about what to say, what to do. She felt her cheeks and ears redden and her hands tighten into fists. “I don’t know, it’s just…” She sighed again. “These sort of things freak me out--commitments, you know.”   
“You’re afraid of commitment? You and Historia dated for like six years before today.”   
“Fine, you piece of shit, I’m afraid of screwing things up. Screwing up commitments. Like what if I somehow piss off Historia and she leaves me? Or what if this whole marriage isn’t for us; like what if we can’t carry it through the rest of our lives? What if everything falls apart? I can’t...go through something like that.”   
A pause ensued and she could feel her face warming up by the second like she was a bomb about to explode at any given moment. “So why do you need Historia?” Reiner asked.   
“She usually calms me down when I’m like this, whenever I overreact or over-think myself.”   
“If that’s the case, then you seriously have nothing to be afraid of.”   
“Fuck off,” she hissed.   
“No, I’m serious. If you know that you tend to overreact or that you screw things up without meaning to and you know that Historia always calms you down whenever you’re like this, then there’s no need for you to act like such a brat right now. You know that Historia loves you and will forgive you no matter what. You know that it works every single time and that’s why you need her so badly now; you need her comfort and love in order to fix you. But trust me, when you see her walk down that aisle with a big smile on her face and in her big fancy wedding dress, everything will be fine. Perfect, even.”   
Ymir said nothing. Her face was on fire, she was still attached to Reiner’s shoulder and she really wanted to kick his crotch into his pelvis right now. But she didn’t protest or try to free herself or shoot him a sarcastic answer because she knew he was right. She knew that Historia loved her and would continue to love her. She just...really needed to see her, wanted to see her.   
“So why don’t you take my advice this once and go through with the plan?” Reiner added. “I promise to not throw you out the window.”  
She smirked into her palms. “You’d have a lot of explaining to do to Historia.”   
“Exactly. What do you say, Freckles?”   
She hesitated before responding. “I say you better be right about this one, Gay Lord.”  
He chuckled. “Alright, Gay Queen.”   
“Don’t call me that and put me down for Christ’s sake.”   
“Oh, yeah.” He slowly put her back on the ground and once he did, it took everything within her to not sprint to the door, throw it open, and run down the hallway.   
Reiner peeked at the watch on his wrist. “We should be heading down now; I’m gonna text Sasha.” He got his phone from the wooden desk nearby, typed a short message, and sent it before shoving the phone into his slacks. He fired a crooked smile her way. “You ready?”   
She frowned but nodded, trying her best to ignore the nausea flowing through her stomach. “Yeah, whatever.”  
“I’m gonna take that as a ‘of course, Reiner, you’re the best.’” He gestured to the door. “I will still tackle you to the ground if you try to make a move, whether it’s your wedding day or not.”  
“I don’t have a doubt in my mind,” she replied as she marched onward.   
The next half hour consisted of Ymir and Reiner making their way to the ceremony in the hotel’s ballroom where everything was decorated in baby pinks, soft oranges, and lovely purples, just like what Historia wanted. Flower petals guided the way to the room where several guests were seated in white chairs, chatting friendly amongst themselves. Annie, Mikasa, Sasha, Jean, and Berthold were stationed by the grand doors that lead to the room and they all greeted her with small smiles and pats on the back. She nodded and returned the smiles but it must’ve came out as a wobbly grimace. Not wanting to throw up, she kept her eyes glued to the multi-colored petals that scattered among the hardwood flooring and didn’t acknowledge anyone, not even when Reiner whispered in her ear, “Lead the way, Freckles.”   
She keep her head down and followed the flowers’ remains, letting her legs do the work. She heard the sweet violins and cellos playing in the distance and the murmurs of people as she walked by. Her heart beat wildly in her chest and she clutched her hands together in desperation. Fuck, I can’t stand this feeling, she thought. I can’t tell if I’m nervous from happiness or just nervous in general. Is this what it’s supposed to feel like on your wedding day? Like someone is tugging on every nerve in your body? God, how do people deal with this?   
All without looking up, she placed herself in her assigned spot next to Historia’s cousin (the marriage officiant), saying nothing. She swallowed, drew a deep breath, and stared at the ground some more. Overtime (which felt like hours to her) she felt the presence of Reiner and Sasha, Jean and Mikasa, Annie and Berthold place themselves around her. Her heart continued to pound against her chest, she grew sweaty, she dug her fingernails into her skin. She did everything she could to not screw anything up.   
And then the sound of the guests rising from their seats and the stringed instruments shifting to another song filled her ears and she finally looked up.   
There she was, her Historia, slowly making her way down the petal-made aisle. Her princess-style wedding dress dragged behind her and all the tiny pieces of jewelry that adored the fabric shined brilliantly. She was clutching a bouquet of pastel-colored flowers in her small hands and Ymir noticed silver bracelets hugging her wrists. Her hair was tied into a loose braid down her back with more flowers tucked into it and a lovely string of pearls hung around her neck, resting against her thin collarbone. A small tiara sat on her head and a sheer veil covered her face but Ymir could plainly see her beloved’s face. She was smiling brightly, her teeth whiter than her dress and her big blue eyes shone like the stars in a black sky. She glanced at the guests she passed and sent tiny waves to those she knew. She would giggle after doing this and then set her eyes back on Ymir. She suddenly wasn’t sporting a big wedding gown and expensive jewelry; she was wearing confidence and love and sureness. And it looked absolutely wonderful on her.   
And just like that, all doubts and worry released their grip on Ymir’s throat and she breathed in the naked love that Historia sent her.   
This was it. The true beginning of their lives.


	33. Epilogue: New Stories (Historia POV)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **written by: thesketchytepe**

It had been roughly half an hour when everyone had finally been settled down into a long table and corner booth near the back of the restaurant and everyone had the same energy as they did when they were told of a twenty minute wait. Several conversations were going on at once, smiles never left or faltered on people’s faces, and the questions or answers never seemed to stop coming.  
Historia was seated at the right corner of the long wooden table that a kind hostess guided the whole group to. Ymir sat next to her with her hand on the back of her chair, just like always. She was busy making her usual snarky remarks at Jean’s comments at how old they’ve all gotten. Mikasa and Eren sat across from them and were occupied with other discussions being passed around the table. After marveling at how no one really changed since college, Historia’s blue eyes searched at the booth next to them and then almost entered into another trance as her eyes gazed at the children (or young adults) that belonged to her college friends, admiring their beauty and trying to guess who belonged to who.  
It was easy to know which children were biological and which were adopted. There were two blondes at the far corner, one boy and one girl. The boy’s golden hair was the longest of his male companions, brushing against the nape of his neck. His deep blue eyes didn’t portray any emotion that Historia could identify as they periodically switched from person to person in his booth. His profile was sharp, very masculine, but the front of his face was somehow softer. His expression didn’t change much though, even when the blonde girl next to him tugged at his arm or spoke to him, trying to grab his attention. This girl’s blonde hair and blue eyes were so pale that they almost appeared translucent, blending easily into her equally pale skin and the harsh lighting above. She had a very kind face: big eyes, straight nose, small lips, high cheekbones. She smiled often and giggled just as much but, even though Historia hadn’t seen it yet, she could tell that when angered, this tiny girl could give off one menacing glare that would send chills down your spine.  
Those two were, without a doubt, the offspring of Armin and Annie Arlert.  
A girl with muddy brown hair sat across from the duo, her hands flying about in an excited manner, her surprisingly low voice the loudest of all the children there. Her wavy hair was about the same length as the blonde boy’s and often hung lowly in her vibrant green eyes—she had to constantly push it back. Those thick eyebrows and shapely eyes were unmistakable to Historia and she knew they belonged to her father Eren. The girl sported a very worn-out red scarf that was also unique to the Reiss girl; she remembered Mikasa wearing the article of clothing back in college (back then it was a blood red color but now it was a cherry red). Historia couldn’t help but to sigh at the child, noting how lucky she was to inherit her parents’ beautiful genes.  
The adopted ones were a bit tricky however. There was another blonde girl that sat on the opposite end of the booth; all of her gorgeous locks were tossed over her right shoulder, giving Historia an excellent side view of her face. This girl definitely knew how to handle her makeup—she highlighted her smooth cheekbones and the bridge of her small nose, put on the right amount of mascara and eyeliner to her dark eyes, and colored her perky lips with shiny lip-gloss. She had on a faint smile on her face as she stared at one of her companions speaking to everyone at the table. Historia could tell the girl had a little bit of an ego with the way she was constantly picking at her black fingernails and how her eyelids fluttered whenever she looked at someone. Based on that alone, Historia had to guess that this girl belonged to Reiner and Berthold—she knew Reiner’s ego was probably as big as he is so, naturally, the trait had to be passed down to their adopted daughter.  
After mentally choosing the second blonde girl as a part of the Braun-Hoover family, she guessed that the three remaining children were Jean and Marco’s. Why? Historia thought it was a silly reason but it was mainly because they all sported freckles.  
One boy sat next to the egoistic blonde with his muscled arm draped over her shoulders, which lead Historia to believe that the two were together (how cute, she thought to herself with a smile). The boy had a personality too; he also pushed his dark hair out of his amber eyes and cracked a very flirtatious smile whenever he looked at his girlfriend’s way. He was very broad, very muscular, and wore a faded lacrosse jersey with the words TROST HIGH SCHOOL and the number 17 printed on the front. His face was very angled and not a hint of any feminine quality (like long eyelashes or a button nose) was seen anywhere on him. He was very manly, Historia had to say.  
Across from the lovers were two more freckled children, another boy and girl. The girl also had dark hair and sported the most freckles out of all of them, several overlapping each other. Her eyes, oh those eyes, were the bluest things Historia has ever seen (even more than Annie’s or Reiner’s). They were large and almost electric; you couldn’t tell the difference between her eyes and the sky on a clear spring day. She had super thick lips that were a little chapped but that smile of hers nearly blew Historia away. She often laughed at the Jaeger girl’s sarcastic comments or smiled sweetly at the Arlert girl next to her. She seemed like a very pleasant girl.  
The last one, the last freckled boy, that sat in the middle was maybe just as loud as the girl that belonged to the Jaegers. He had short but very wavy hair and it was the color of dark chocolate. He also had blue eyes (but not as bright as his sister’s) and contained one dimple on his left cheek. He had a very charming smile and he used it often, clearly having a wonderful time with his siblings and close friends. He seemed to have both Marco and Jean’s personality into one: he was very sweet and funny but he sometimes got into a yelling match with the Jaeger girl (though they both quickly made up afterward, Historia thinking that those two probably argue often).  
After examining the children, Historia leaned forward and asked for the names of the youths next to them again (“I’m sorry but I’m horrible at names,” she apologized afterwards, “there’s seven of them and I can’t remember them all in one sitting.”) The answer she wished for was given to her and she looked at them again, saying how beautiful and lovely they all were.  
Even though Historia loved children, she and Ymir didn’t have one of their one. Ymir wasn’t particularly fond of them anyway and they were so busy living in Rome and exploring almost half the world that they didn’t have time to really settle down and adopt a child. Historia told the group this and begged to know what it was like raising all those wonderful souls.  
What an adventure they must’ve had, Historia thought to herself as the Arlerts, Jaegers, Bodt-Kirtstiens, and Braun-Hoovers began to tell her the story of their own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **And that was the final chapter of Without the Walls AU. As you can tell from the cliffhanger we left for you, there will be a sequel to this AU coming out in the near future. It'll feature the same ships and backstories that we came up with for this story and there'll be amazing OCs that we think you guys will enjoy greatly. Thanks to all who read this fic and gave us such encouraging comments! We hope you stick around for the next adventure! :)   
> See ya next time,  
> \--thesketchytepe and blueTshirts**


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